.^  <■ 


JneuNT -^ 


A^ERJES  oFDEV^0TIO|)/\Lr^EDlT/VTI0[^S 


d?          PRINCETON,  N.  J.          <f> 

Shelf.. 

BV  4832  .M34  1886          ^ 
Matheson,  George,  1842-1906 
Moments  on  the  mount 

/^^ 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


MOMEKTS  ON  THE  MOUiM: 

A   SERIES  OF 
BE  VOTIONA  L    M  EDIT  A  TIONS, 


BY 

REV.  GEORGE  MATHESOX,  M.A.,  D.D. 

MINISTER   OF   THE    PARISH    uF   INNELLAN. 


^ernnD  OETiitton. 


NEW    YORK: 

A.  C.  ARMSTRONG  &  SOX,  714  BROADWAY. 

1886. 


PREFACE. 


Theee  are  two  motives  wliicli  have  influenced 
us  in  the  production  of  this  little  book.  We 
have  sought,  on  the  one  hand,  to  supply  aids 
to  devotion  either  for  the  use  of  the  family  or 
of  the  individual,  and  on  the  other,  to  furnish 
points  of  suggestion  to  the  student  who  is 
a  prospective  preacher.  Perhaps  it  may  be 
thought  that  these  two  ains  are  incongruous, 
and  it  would  be  too  much  to  hope  that  in  both 
we  have  succeeded  ;  yet  devotion  is  not  the 
absence  of  thought,  and  thought  is  not  neces- 
sarily the  absence  of  devotion.  At  all  events, 
the  presence  in  the  mind  of  two  so  reactionary 
aims  may  have  had  the  beneficial  result  of 
preserving  these  meditations  either  from  the 
fault  of  too  much  abstractness  or  from  the  sin 

of  too  little  depth. 

G.  M. 

Manse,  Innetxan,  18S4. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 

I.    QUIET  MOMENTS        .  ,  . 

II.    UNSELFISH  MOMENTS 

III.  THE  BRIGHT  LIGHT  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

IV.  THE  MYSTERY  OF  GOd's  LEADING 
V.    THE  TROUBLE  BROUGHT  BY  CHRIST 

VI.  god's  SYMPATHETIC  KNOWLEDGE 

VII.  INTERRUPTED  COMMUNION 

Vin.  THE  VISION  OF  THE  STAR 

IX.  WALKING  WITH  GOD 

X.  god's  DWELLING-PLACE    . 

XL  THE  WILDERNESS  AFTER  JORDAN 

XII.  TEMPTATION 

XIIL  CANA  OF  GALILEE  . 

XIV.  HEAVEN  WITHOUT  A  TEMPLE 

XV.  NO  MORE  SEA 

XVI.  WHERE  TO  MEET  WITH  GOD 

XVIL  THE  FIRE  OF  GOD    . 

XVIIL  CHRISTIAN  ASPIRATION    . 


PAOB 
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CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 

XIX.   Christ's  sympathy 
XX.  god's  -warning 

XXI.    THE    GROUND    OF    IMMORTALITY 
XXII.    REVELATION     .... 
XXin.    THE    INWARDNESS    OF    REVELATION 
XXIV.    DESERT    EXPERIENCES 
XXV.    VISION   IN   OLD   AGE 
XXVI.    THE    THORN       .... 
XXVII.    THE    GLORY    OF    SUFFERING 
XXVIII.    THE    POWER    OF    CHRIST's    SACRIFICE 
XXIX.    THE    SECRET    OF    PEACE 
XXX.    THE    OMNIPRESENT    GOD      . 
XXXI.    THE    SUPERNATURAL    IN    THE    NATURAL 
XXXIL    THE    GLORY    OF    MORNING 
XXXIIL    THE    GLORY    OF    CHRIST      . 
XXXIV.    THE    SPIRITUAL    YEAR 
XXXV.    THE    LIVING   WAY      . 
XXXVL    THE    PROGRESS    OF    THE    DIVINE    LIFE 
XXXVII.    LOVE    CONSTRAINING 
XXXVIII.    HUMAN    INSTRUMENTALITY 
XXXIX.    THE    CHOICE    OF    MANHOOD 

XL.    AN    UNSELFISH    SEEKING    FOR    REWARD 
XLL    THE    VOICE    IN    THE    TABERNACLE 
XLII.    TARRYING    UNDER   THE    CLOUD 
XLIII.    THE    VALUE    OF    PAIN 
XLIV.    SPIRITUAL   RESURRECTION 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 

XLV.    RELIGIOUS    FEELING    AND    RELIGIOUS    THOUGHT 
XLVI.    THE    BLESSEDNESS    OF    DIVIXE    VISION 
XLVIL    THE    IMMEDIATE    VISION    OP    GOD 
XLVIII.    THE    KEY    TO    GOd's    SILENCE 
XLIX.    PEACE    BETTER    THAN    JOY 

L.    OBEDIENCE    BETTER   THAN    SACRIFICE 
LI.    THE    CURE   FOR   PAIN 
LIT.    god's   promise    OF   PROSPERITY 

LiiL  sin's  first  manifestation 

LIV.    HOW   TO    KNOW   GOD's    LOVE 
LV.    THE    BOLDNESS    OF    CHRISTIAN   HOPE 
LVL    SPIRITUAL   WEANING 
LVIL    THE    UNIVERSAL   HARMONY 
LVIIL    CHRISTIANITY   NOT   ASCETICISM 
LIX.    CHRISTIAN    CHARITY 

Lx.  Christ's  sense  op  mystery    . 

LXI.    the    knocking   OP   the   SPIRIT 
LXII.    MOMENTS    OP   ANTICIPATION 
LXIIL    WAYSIDE    SEEDS 
LXIV.    HUMAN    UNREST 
LXV.    THE    FIGHT   OP   FAITH 
LXVL    THE   RECOGNITION   OP   CHRIST       . 
LXVIL    THE   STAGES    OP   SPIRITUAL   REST 
LXVIII.    THE   ROAD   TO   GREATNESS 
LXIX.    THE    DARK    THINGS    OP    LIFE 
LXX.    THE    ARM    OF    THE  LORD       . 


p.xr.E 

io6 


COXTENTS. 


CHAP. 

LXXI.    SPIRITUAL  ADMIRATION    . 
LXXII.    THE  PROVIDENCE  OF  SORROW    . 
l.XXIII.    THE  SONG  OF  SACRIFICE  . 
LXXIV,    CHRISTIAN  FREEDOM 
LXXV.    THE    PRESERVATION    OF    PERSONAL 

THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE    . 
LXXVL    ADAPTATION 
LXXVII.    THE  BUILDING  OP  THE  SOUL     . 
LXXVIII.    THE  HELP  OF  GOD 
LXXIX.    DIVINE  EDUCATION 

LXXX.    THE  SECRET  OF  THE  LORD 
LXXXI.    IN  THE  HANDS  OF  GOD     . 
LXXXII.    THE  REVEALING  PAST 
LXXXIIL    THE  ANSWER  TO  CHRIST's  PRAYER 
LXXXIV.    FAITH  AND  KNOWLEDGE  . 
LXXXV.    A  PROVIDENTIAL  ABSENCE  OF  GOD 
LXXXVI.    SELF-COMMUNION     . 
LXXXVII.    SPIRITUAL  GROWTH 
r^XXXVIII.    THE  PROMISE  OF  HEAVEN  , 

LXXXIX.    THE  GLORY  OF  DIVINE  LOVE      . 
XC.    STUBBORN  SINS 
XCI.    THE  STRUGGLE  SUCCEEDING  LIGHT 
XCII.    WHAT  THE  ANGELS  STUDY 
XCIIL    THE  REASON  FOR  BURDEN-BEARING 
XCIV.    THE  CAUSE  OF  UNCHARITABLENE.'JS 
XCY.    THE  MEMORY  OF  THE  HEART     . 


PAGE 

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CONTENTS. 


CM  AI'. 

XCVI.    HOW    TO    SHINE 

XCVII.    THE    HEAVENLY    IN    THE    KAKl'HI 
XCVIII.    DEATH       .... 
XCIX.    LIFE  .... 

C.    JESUS    ONLY 
CI.    THE    GOODWILL    OF    THE    BUSH 
CII.    THE    CARES    OF    GOD  . 
cm.    THE    BLASTS    OF    ADVERSITY 
CIV.    THE    DISINTERESTEDNESS    OF    GOD's    CHOICE 

CV.    ISAAC         .... 
CVI.    CHRISTIAN    PROMOTION, 
CVII.    RELIGIOUS    ATTRACTIVENESS 
CVIIL    SPIRITUAL    FEARLESSNESS  . 


241 
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MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


QUIET  MOMENTS. 

"  And  ihey  heard  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God  walking  in. 
the  garden  in  the  cool  of  the  day" — Gen.  iii.  8. 

It  is  only  in  the  cool  of  the  day  that  I  can 
hear  Thy  footsteps,  0  my  God.  Thou  art 
ever  walking  in  the  garden.  Thy  presence  is 
abroad  everywhere  and  always ;  but  it  is  not 
everywhere  nor  always  that  I  can  hear  Thee 
passing  by.  The  burden  and  heat  of  the  day 
are  too  strono-  for  me.  The  struQ^^^les  of  life 
excite  me,  the  ambitions  of  life  perturb  me,  the 
glitter  of  life  dazzles  me ;  it  is  all  thunder 
and  earthquake  and  fire.  But  when  I  myself 
am  still  I  catch  Thy  still  small  voice,  and  then 
I  know  that  Thou  art  God.     Thy  peace  can 


2  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

only  speak  to  my  peacefulness,  Thy  rest  caQ 
oiAy  be  audible  to  my  calm ;  the  harmony  of 
Thy  tread  cannot  be  heard  by  the  discord  of 
my  soul.  Therefore,  betimes  I  would  be  alone 
with  Thee,  away  from  the  heat  and  the  battle. 
I  would  feel  the  cool  breath  of  Thy  Spirit,  that 
I  may  be  refreshed  once  more  for  the  strife.  I 
would  be  fanned  by  the  breezes  of  heaven,  that 
I  may  resume  the  diisty  road  and  the  dolorous 
way.  Not  to  avoid  ihem  do  I  come  to  Thee, 
but  that  I  may  be  able  more  perfectly  to  bear 
them.  Let  me  hear  Thy  voice  in  the  garden 
in  the  cool  of  the  day. 


II. 

UNSELFISH  MOMENTS. 

"  A/:d  the  Lord  turned  the  captivity  of  Job  when  he  prayed 
for  his  friends." — Job  xlii.  lo. 

It  is  only  in  moments  of  unseitishness  that  1 
am  free.  The  iron  chain  that  binds  me  is 
the  thought  of  myself  and  of  my  own 
calamities  ;   if  I  could  but  be  liberated  from 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  3 

that,  my  captivity  would  be  turned  in  an  hour. 

If,  under  the  shadow  of  the  cloud,  I  could  but 

remember  that  the  shadow  of  the  same  cloud 

hovers  over  my  brother-man,  the  vision  of  his 

shadow  would  destroy  mine.     In  the  moment 

of  prayer  for  him  my  burden  would  fall  from 

me.    I  would  seek  it,  and  lo !  it  would  not  be 

found ;  it  would  be  as  if  it  had  not  been.     0 

Thou  Divine  Spirit  of  self-forgetful ness,  Spirit 

of  Christ,  Spirit  of  the  Cross,   it  is  in  Thee 

alone  that  I  can  find  this  freedom.     Liberate 

me  from  myself,  and  instead  of  the  iron  chain, 

give  me  a  chain  of  gold.     It  is  not  the  chain 

that  lowers  me,  it  is  the  material  of  which  it  is 

made ;  it  is  not  the  sorrow  that  makes  me  a 

captive,  it  is  the  centring  of  the  sorrow  round 

my  own  life.     Help  me  to  take  up  the  burdens 

of  others.     Help  me  to  know  what  it  is  to  have 

rest  in  bearing  an  additional  yoke.  Thy  yoke, 

the  yoke  of  humanity.     Help  me  to  feel  what 

it  is  to  have  peace  in  carrying  a  new  care,  Thy 

care,  the  care  of  universal  love.     Help  me  to 

learn  what  it  is  to  be  transfigured  in  the  prayer 

for  others  ;  to  have  the  countenance  shining  as 

the  light,  and  the  raiment  white  and  glisterino- 


.4  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

My  fetters  shall  be  wings  of  sympathy  whei-eby 
I  shall  pass  into  tlie  heart  of  the  world,  and 
when  I  have  reached  the  heart  of  the  world  the 
fetters  shall  fall  ;  my  captivity  shall  be  turned 
back  when  I  have  prayed  for  my  captive 
friends. 


III. 


THE  BRIGHT  LIGHT  IN  THE  CLOUDS. 

"  Afid  flow  men  see  not  the  brig/it  light  which  is  in  the 
cIoudsT — Job  xxxvii.  21. 

My  soul,  the  greatest  truth  about  thee  is  that 
which  thou  hast  not  learned — the  secret  of 
thine  own  joy,  the  source  of  the  light  that  is  in 
thee.  Thou  art  seeking  thy  light  in  the  dis- 
persion of  the  cloud,  and  all  the  time  Thy  light 
is  in  the  cloud.  Thou  art  like  the  old  patri- 
arch of  Uz.  Thou  art  askins^  God  for  an 
explanation  of  thy  darkness,  and  thou  art 
expecting  an  answer  from  all  quarters  but  one 
— the  darkness  itself.  Yet  it  is  there,  and 
nowhere  else,  that  the  secret  lies.  Thy  cloud 
is  thy  fire-chariot ;    thy  trial  is  thy  triumpli. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  5 

The  best  gift  of  divine  love  to  tLee  has  been 
thy  pain  ;  it  has  taught  thee  what  is  the 
difFerence  between  beinsf  virtuous  ;iud  beino- 
innocent.  Thou  hast  been  self-deceived,  0  my 
soul.  Thou  hast  been  down  in  the  valley  of 
the  shadow,  and  thou  hast  been  looking  up  to 
the  calm  heavens  to  find  thy  God.  The  calm 
heavens  have  not  answered  thee,  and  thou  hast 
said,  "  Verily  Thou  art  a  God  that  hidest  Thy- 
self." Yet  all  tlie  time  thy  God  has  been  be- 
side thee  in  the  valley,  a  sharer  in  the  shadow 
of  thy  life.  Thou  hast  been  lookinor  too  far  to 
find  Him  ;"  thou  has  cried  to  the  heavens  when 
He  was  at  the  very  door.  He  was  speaking  in 
the  voices  that  seemed  to  deny  His  presence ; 
He  was  manifested  in  the  shades  that  appeared 
to  veil  His  form.  He  came  to  thee  in  the 
night,  that  His  glory  might  be  concealed.  He 
came  to  thee  unaccompanied  and  unadorned, 
that  He  might  know  whether  He  were  loved 
for  Himself  alone.  The  night  under  which 
thou  hast  murmured  has  been  hiding  in  its 
folds  a  wondrous  treasure — the  very  presence 
of  the  King  of  kings  ;  wherefore  didst  thou 
not  see  the  bridit  light  in  the  cloud  ? 


6  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

IV. 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  GOD'S  LEADING. 

"  God  led  them  not  through  the  way  of  the  land  of  the 
Philistifies,  although  that  was  near  .  .  .  but  God  led 
the  people  about  through  the  way  of  the  wilderness  I' — 
ExoD.  xiii.  17-18. 

Why  is  it  that  I  am  not  suffered  to  come  to 
Thee  by  the  near  way  ?  wherefore  am  I  forced 
to  seek  the  promised  land  through  the  longest 
road — the  road  of  the  wilderness?  There  are 
times  when  I  almost  seemed  to  have  reached 
Thee  at  a  bound.  There  are  flashes  of  thouo^ht 
in  which  I  appear  to  have  escaped  the  wilder- 
ness and  to  have  entered  already  into  Thy  rest. 
I  am  caught  up  to  meet  Thee  in  the  air,  and 
the  world  fades  away  in  the  far  distance,  and  I 
am  alone  with  Thyself.  But  the  rapture  and 
the  solitude  are  short-lived.  The  world  re- 
turns again  with  double  power,  and  a  cloud 
falls  over  the  transfiguration  glory  ;  and  at  the 
very  moment  when  I  am  saying,  "  Methinks  it 
is  good  to  be  here,"  a  voice  whispers  in  my 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  7 

car,  "Go  back,  and  take  tlie  journey  tbrougli 
the  wilderness." 

My  soul,  thou  must  not  murmur  at  that 
messasre :  it  is  a  messasre  of  love  to  thee,  and 
a  mcssagfe  of  love  to  the  wilderness.  Thou 
hast  need  of  the  wilderness,  and  the  wilder- 
ness has  need  of  thee.  There  are  thorns  in 
the  desert  which  must  be  gathered  ere  she 
can  rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose,  and  the 
gathering  of  her  thorns  shall  be  the  gathering 
of  flowers  to  thee.  Thou  canst  not  do  without 
the  thorn.  To  be  caught  up  to  meet  thy  Lord 
in  the  air  would  be  too  much  exaltation  ;  it 
would  lift  thee  above  the  sympathies  of  the 
toiling  crowd.  Better  to  meet  thy  Lord  in 
the  wilderness  than  in  the  air.  Thou  wilt 
find  him  travelling  by  the  long  road — the 
road  of  Gethsemane  and  Calvary.  Join  thy- 
self to  the  journey  of  the  Son  of  man.  Help 
Him  to  carry  His  burden  of  human  care  over 
the  wastes  of  time.  Enter  into  fellowship 
with  that  cross  of  His  which  was  the  pain  of 
seeing  pain,  and  verily  love  sliall  make  the 
long  road  short ;  thy  feet  shall  be  as  the  feet 
of  the  roe  ;  the  crooked  shall  be  made  straight, 


8  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

and  the  rough  places  shall  be  made  plain ;  for 
the  glory  of  the  Lord  ahall  be  revealed,  and 
the  glory  of  the  Lord  is  love. 


V. 

THE  TROUBLE  BROUGHT  BY  CHRIST. 

"  W/ien  Herod  the  king  had  heard  these  things,  he  7vas 
troubled.'^ — Matt.  ii.  3. 

There  were  four  kinodoms  conoreo^ated  at  the 
Christian  dawn — the  king^dom  of  nature,  the 
kino^dom  of  knowledo^e,  the  kinodom  of  world- 
liness,  and  the  kino^dom  of  unworldliness.  The 
kinQ^dom  of  nature  came  in  a  star,  the  kins- 
dom  of  knowledo^e  in  the  Mawi,  the  kins'dom 
of  worldliness  in  Herod,  and  the  kingdom  of 
unworldliness  in  the  child-Christ.  Only  one 
of  the  kingdoms  was  troubled  by  the  child. 
Nature  did  not  fear  Him,  knowledge  did  not 
shun  Him  ;  Herod  alone  trembled  at  His 
com  in  Of. 

My  soul,  art  thou  afraid  of  the  coming  of 
Christ  into  thy  life  ?  Dost  thou  fear  that  He 
will  narrow  thee  t     Nay,  but  He  will  narrow 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  9 

that  wliicli  narrows  thoe.  He  will  not  destroy 
thy  love  of  nature,  for  He  is  the  crown  of 
nature.  He  will  not  dispute  tli}^  right  to 
knowledge,  for  He  is  the  end  of  knowledge  ; 
but  He  will  expel  from  thy  heart  the  Herod 
that  imprisons  thee.  He  will  deny  the 
power  of  Herod  to  make  thee  happy,  and 
He  will  prove  His  denial  even  by  thy 
pain.  Wouldst  thou  rather  be  without  that 
pain  ?  Hast  tliou  forgotten  the  pool  of  Beth- 
esda  ?  An  angel  came  down  to  trouble  the 
waters,  and  then  the  waters  were  powerful. 
Thou,  too,  shalt  be  powerful  after  thou  hast 
been  troubled.  Thinkest  thou  that  the  still- 
ness of  primeval  chaos  was  a  calm  1  There 
was  no  calm  till  the  Spirit  moved.  Only 
w^ien  the  face  of  the  waters  is  ruffled  by  the 
breath  of  the  life  Divine  is  the  mandate  truly 
heard,  "  Let  there  be  light." 


10  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

VI. 

COD'S  SYMPATHETIC  KNOWLEDGE. 

*'  T/ie  Lord  knoweth  tlie  way  of  the  righteous.^' — 
Ps.  i.  6. 

Does  He  not  know  all  things  ?  Why  limit 
thus  the  range  of  His  omniscience  ?  Is  there 
anything  that  can  be  hid  from  the  search  of 
His  piercing  gaze  ?  Is  not  the  way  of  the 
wicked  also  known  to  Him  ? — known  so  well 
that  He  has  travelled  over  the  far  country  to 
seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost.  Yes ; 
but  there  is  a  sense  in  which  He  only  knows 
the  good.  His  eyes  behold,  His  eyelids  try  all 
that  belongs  to  the  eye ;  but  there  is  a  know- 
ledo^e  which  belons^s  not  to  the  eye  but  to  the 
heart,  the  knowledge  which  men  call  sym- 
pathy. Hundreds  know  me  as  a  man,  but 
only  my  child  knows  me  as  a  father.  Even 
so  the  heavenly  Father  has  a  special  know- 
ledge of  His  child.  His  knowledo^e  is  his 
nearness  ;  it  is  the  attraction  of  a  kindred 
sympathy,  the  gravitation  of  love.     He  looks 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  n 

into  the  glass  of  our  Immanity  aud  He  beholds 
there,  in  miniature,  the  brightness  of  His  own 
glory,  the  express  image  of  His  own  peisoii, 
the  Christ  that  is  to  be,  and  when  He  sees  it, 
He  rejoices  with  an  exceeding  great  joy. 

My  soul,  wilt  thou  fulfil  this  joy  of  thy 
Father's  heart  ?  He  waits  to  behold  in  thee 
the  impress  of  His  own  likeness.  He  sits  as  a 
refiner  of  silver  till  He  sees  in  thee  the  re- 
flection of  His  own  image,  and  when  He 
sees  His  image  reflected  He  knows  that  the 
refining  is  complete.  Wilt  thou  grant  Him 
the  joy  of  that  knowledge  ?  Wilt  thou  let 
Him  behold  a  Christ  in  thee — Himself  in  thee  ? 
Wilt  thou  let  Him  feel  that  there  is  a  heart  in 
sympathy  with  His  heart,  a  life  in  unison  with 
His  life,  a  will  in  harmony  wdth  His  will  ? 
Then  thou  shalt  have  the  joy  of  all  joys — the 
joy  of  making  glad  the  heart  of  God.  Com- 
munion is  dear  to  the  spirit  of  the  heavenly 
Father  ;  for  the  spirit  of  the  Father  is  love,  and 
love  seeketh  not  her  own.  It  cannot  rest  in 
aught  but  the  vision  of  its  object ;  it  must 
speak,  and  it  must  be  answered  again  ;  it  must 
know  even  as  it  is  known. 


12  MOMENTS  OX  THE  MOUNT. 

VII. 

INTERRUPTED  COMMUNION. 

"Go,  get  thee  down  ;  for  thy  people,  which  thou  brougJitcst 
put  of  t  lie  land  of  Egypt,  have  con-upted  themselves." — 
ExoD.  xxxii.  7. 

"  Go,  get  thee  clown  ; "  it  was  surely  a  hard, 
an  unlikely  mandate.  AVas  it  not  a  command 
to  go  forth  from  the  secret  of  God's  pavilion, 
from  the  Mount  of  Divine  vision  and  Divine 
communion  into  the  vision  of  things  that  were 
not  Divine,  into  communion  with  things  that 
were  not  holy  ?  You  and  I  have  been  forced 
at  times  to  feel  what  Moses  felt.  We  have 
had  moments  of  rapture,  in  which  we  have 
been  allowed  to  stand  on  the  very  top  of  the 
mountain  and  to  see,  as  it  were,  the  face  of 
God  unveiled — moments  when  His  countenance 
was  radiant  as  the  light  and  His  raiment 
dazzling  as  the  sunlit  snow.  But  presently  a 
cloud  has  fallen  uver  the  vision  and  the  glory 
has  vanished  from  the  scene.  The  rapture  is 
turned  into  coldness,  and  the  mountain  sinks 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  13 

into  a  common  plain,  filled  with  the  concourse 
of  the  multitude,  and  echoinof  with  the  cries  of 
human  struoole  •  a  voice  has  sounded  in  mine 
ear  and  said,  "  Go,  get  thee  down." 

Yes,  my  soul,  and  has  it  not  brought  to  thine 
ear  the  reason  of  its  sounding  ?  Why  has  it 
commanded  thee  to  quit  the  glorious  mountain 
for  the  common  plain  ?  It  is  because  it  is  a 
common  plain.  It  is  because  on  that  plain 
there  is  a  concourse  of  living  beings  who  are 
unfit  for  the  glorious  mountain.  They  have 
no  vision  from  a  height,  and  therefore  they  are 
oppressed  by  life's  labour  and  its  ladenness. 
They  want  some  one  to  heal  them,  some  one 
to  lift  them,  some  one  to  inspire  them  with  the 
breath  of  a  presence  that  has  dwelt  aloft. 
Thou  mayest  be  that  presence.  If  thou  hast 
gazed  on  the  face  of  God,  thou  hast  a  mes- 
meric passport  into  the  heart  of  thy  brother 
man.  He  shall  lift  up  his  eyes  unto  the  hills, 
whence  comcth  tJiine  aid ;  make  no  tarrying 
to  120  down,  0  m\  soul. 


14  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT 

viir. 

THE  VISION  OF  THE  STAR. 

"  IVAe/i  they  had  heard  the  kitig,  they  departed ;  and,  lo, 
the  star,  which  they  saw  i?i  the  east,  went  before  them." 
— Matt.  ii.  9, 

Where  Lad  the  star  been  while  they  tarried 
in  the  city  of  Herod  ?  Had  it  ceased  to  shiue 
in  the  sky  ?  Had  it  been  extinguished  when 
it  had  led  them  to  the  palace  of  the  great 
king  ?  Nay,  it  was  still  there,  but  they  had 
lost  sight  of  it ;  it  was  hidden  by  the  streets 
and  buildings  of  the  world.  The  wise  men 
had  entered  into  an  uncongenial  atmosphere, 
into  a  scene  where  wisdom  did  not  reifjn. 
They  had  ceased  to  see  tlie  glory  of  the  vision 
that  had  led  them  forth  rejoicing ;  it  had  been 
dimmed  by  the  mist  of  worldliness.  But  now 
they  had  left  the  world,  and  the  star  again 
appeared.  It  had  been  waiting  for  them  all 
along  in  the  pure  heavens,  and  when  their 
eyes  had  lost  the  impurity  of  earth  they 
beheld  its  calm  light  once  more. 


MUMEXTS  UN  THE  MOUNT.  15 

So  is  it  ofttimes  with  thee,  my  soul.  Thou 
criest  out  that  tlie  glory  of  other  days  has 
departed,  aud  that  the  star  of  Betldeliem  has 
set,  when  all  the  time  it  is  thou  that  hast 
departed  from  the  glory.  The  star  has  never 
left  the  sky,  but  thou  hast  lost  sight  of  the  sky. 
Thy  vision  has  become  bounded  by  the  forms 
and  pageants  of  what  men  call  the  great  world, 
and  thou  canst  not  recall  the  glow  of  other 
days.  But  if  thou  shalt  depart  from  the  con- 
tact of  worldliness  thy  star  shall  reappear.  If 
thou  shalt  leave  the  form  and  the  pageants 
thou  shalt  see  the  calm  light  that  made  thy 
earth  a  heaven.  The  glory  of  thy  East  shall 
be  given  back  to  thee — the  glory  of  the  days 
when  thou  wert  young,  and  when  the  heart  of 
thy  youth  bounded  as  the  roe.  Thy  star 
waits  for  thee,  waits  to  lead  thee  to  the  man- 
ger of  the  child-Christ ;  and  when  thou  shalt 
reach  the  humility  of  Bethlehem  thou  shalt  be 
thyself  a  child  again — a  child  in  heart,  a  man 
in  wisdom. 


l6  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

IX. 

WALKING  WITH  GOD. 

"  And  all  the  days  of  Enoch  were  thfee  hii?idrcd  sixty  and 
five  years :  and  Enoch  walked  with  God :  and  he 
was  not ;  for  God  tooJi  hini.^'' — Gen.  v.  23,  24. 

Great  men,  it  bath  been  said,  have  short 
biographies.  So  is  it  with  Enoch.  He  is  the 
greatest  figure  of  that  old  world,  head  and 
shoulders  above  all  the  antediluvians,  yet  his 
was  the  shortest  life  of  all.  The  number  of  his 
outward  years  does  not  attain  to  the  number 
of  the  years  of  his  fathers  ;  there  is  less  to  tell 
of  him  than  of  them.  Why  is  there  less  to 
tell  ?  It  is  because  he  is  greater  than  they. 
His  life  was  more  inward,  and  therefore  it 
was  more  hidden.  The  part  that  lived  most 
intensely  was  just  the  part  which  men  do  not 
see — the  spirit,  the  heart,  the  soul.  His  life 
was  hid  with  God,  because  in  its  essence  it  was 
the  life  of  God — love.  It  was  too  inward  a 
life  to  make  an  im^tression  on  the  world  ;  its 
walk  was  divine,  and  therefore  it  was  deemed 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  17 

a  lowly  walk,  a  thing  to  be  forgotten.  Yet 
nothing  else  has  been  remembered  in  all  that 
world.  Its  wars  and  rumours  of  wars,  its 
marryings  and  givings  in  marriage,  its  buyings 
and  sellings  and  banquetings  have  been  num- 
bered with  the  dead  ;  but  Enoch,  by  his  walk 
with  God,  is  alive  for  evermore. 

My  soul,  thy  walk  with  God  is  thy  evidence 
of  immortality.  What  is  it  that  separates 
thee  from  the  beast  of  the  field  ?  It  is  the  path 
of  duty.  There  thou  walkest  with  God  aloft 
and  alone.  Tliou  hast  already  a  portion  un- 
shared by  the  life  of  the  lower  creation.  Thou 
hast  transcended  the  seen  and  temporal ;  thou 
hast  entered  the  unseen  and  eternal,  thou  hast 
passed  from  death  unto  life.  No  human 
theory  can  rob  thee  of  thy  hope.  It  is  not  a 
hope,  it  is  not  a  faith,  it  is  not  even  a  proof; 
it  is  a  sight,  a  fact,  an  experience,  a  life  begun. 
Thy  hope  of  glory  is  Christ  already  in  thee. 
Thou  art  immortal  before  death.  Thou  hast 
reached  even  now  the  promised  land,  and 
canst  look  smiling  from  the  other  bank  of 
Jordan.  When  death  shall  come  to  seek  thee, 
he  shall  see  thee  already  escaped   from    the 


1 8  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

fowler's  snare,  and  shall  write  this  verdict  of 
his  own  discomfiture,  "  He  was  not  found ;  for 
God  took  him." 


GOD'S  DWELLING-PLACE. 

"  /n  Him  dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodilyP 
— Col.  ii.  9. 

"  Where  does  God  live  ? "  asks  the  little 
child  ;  "  Oh  that  I  knew  where  I  might  fiud 
Him ! "  cries  the  earnest  man.  We  are  all 
seeking  Thy  dwelling-place,  thou  King  of 
kings.  We  have  not  yet  found  a  palace  large 
enouo^h  to  contain  Thee.  Some  have  souojht 
Thee  in  tlie  water,  some  in  the  air,  some  in 
the  fire,  because  tlie  water  and  the  air  and  the 
fire  are  to  us  boundless  things.  Yet  it  is  not 
in  the  boundless  that  Thou  desirest  to  be 
found  ;  it  is  in  the  limited,  the  broken,  the 
contrite.  The  heaven  of  heavens  cannot  con- 
tain Thee,  but  the  broken  and  the  contrite 
heart  can  ;  it  is  there  Thou  dulightest  most  to 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  19 

dwell.  Thy  brightest  glory  is  not  in  the 
stars,  but  in  the  strnggles  of  a  conquering 
soul.  Thy  temple  is  the  heart  of  Him  whom 
men  have  called  the  Man  of  sorrows.  Tliy 
fulness  dwells  in  His  emptiness,  Thy  wealth 
in  His  poverty,  Thy  strength  in  His  weakness, 
Thy  joy  in  His  sorrow.  Thy  crown  in  His 
cross.  Within  that  temple  meet  harmoniously 
the  things  which  to  the  world  are  discords — 
perfection  and  sufferiug,  peace  and  warfare, 
love  and  storm ;  the  lion  and  the  lamb  lie 
down  together.  There  would  I  seek  Thee,  0 
my  God.  Within  these  sacred  precincts,  where 
all  things  are  gathered  into  one,  where  middle 
walls  of  partition  are  broken  down,  where 
jarring  chords  are  blended  in  one  symphony  of 
praise,  there  would  I  seek  and  find  Thee. 
Under  the  shadow  of  that  cross,  where  death 
meets  life  and  earth  is  touched  by  heaven,  my 
finite  soul  would  lose  its  finitude  and  be  one 
with  Thee.  My  night  would  vanish  in  Thy 
day,  my  sorrow  would  melt  in  Thy  joy,  my 
meanness  would  merge  in  Thy  majesty,  my 
sin  would  be  lost  in  Thy  holiness.  The  veil 
which  hides  me  from  Thee  is  the  shadow  of 


20  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

my  own  will ;  when  the  veil  of  the  temple 
shall  be  rent  in  twain  I  shall  see  the  place 
where  Thy  glory  dwelleth. 


THE  WILDERNESS  AFTER  JORDAN. 

"  T/ie/i  was  Jesus  led  up  cf  the  Spirit  itito  the  wilderness^ 
— ]\Iatt.  iv.  I. 

Teen  was  Jesus  led  up.  Surely  it  was  a 
strange  time  for  such  a  catastrophe.  Was  it 
not  just  after  the  glorious  vision  on  the  banks 
of  Jordan,  when  the  heavens  had  been  opened 
to  His  sight,  and  the  dove-like  Spirit  had 
descended  on  His  soul,  and  the  Father  Is  voice 
had  sounded  in  His  ear,  "  This  is  my  beloved 
Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased."  After  such 
a  vision,  after  such  a  voice,  one  would  have 
thought  that  there  was  no  room  in  His  life  for 
a  wilderness  any  more  ;  yet  it  was  then,  and 
at  no  other  time,  that  the  wilderness  ap- 
peared. I  too  have  betimes  been  forced  to 
repeat  this  experience  of  my  Lord.      I  have 


MOMENTS  Oi\  THE  MOUNT.  21 

sat  down  at  the  table  of  communion,  and  it 
has  seemed  to  me  as  if  heaven  were  for  ever 
opened.  All  clouds  have  vanished  from  my 
path,  and  the  silence  has  been  broken  by  the 
benediction  of  a  Father's  voice,  and  the  dove- 
like Spirit  has  whispered  in  my  car  the  pro- 
mise of  a  peace  that  passeth  knowledge.  But 
then  anon  the  shadows  have  gathered  anew. 
The  table  of  communion  has  been  withdrawn, 
and  the  Divine  voice  has  seemed  to  be  silent, 
and  that  which  was  once  the  garden  of  the 
Lord  has  been  transformed  into  the  solitudes 
of  the  wilderness.  I  have  asked  myself  in 
surprise  wherefore  my  soul  has  been  thus  dis- 
quieted. Why  has  the  glory  of  my  morning 
faded  1  Why  has  the  glad  promise  of  peace 
been  broken  ?  I  went  out,  like  the  Psalmist, 
with  a  multitude  that  kept  holyday,  and  I 
have  returned  alone.  Why  art  Thou  so  far 
from  helping  me,  0  my  God  ? 

My  soul,  thou  art  disquieted  without  a  cause. 
Thy  God  is  not  far  from  helping  thee  ;  thy 
God  has  never  left  thee  for  a  moment ;  He 
has  passed  with  thee  from  the  Jordan  into  the 
wilderness.      It  is  the  Spirit  that  leads  thee 


22  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

up  into  tlie  wilderuess.  He  would  not  have 
fulfilled  His  promise  of  peace  Lad  He  left  thee 
on  the  banks  of  Jordan.  The  vision  of  the 
opened  heavens  was  only  peace  from  the 
storm,  but  the  promise  He  made  to  thee  was 
a  promise  of  peace  in  the  storm.  That  pro- 
mise He  can  only  keep  in  the  wilderness. 
What  proof  wouldst  thou  have  of  His  love  ? 
Wouldst  thou  have  purple  and  fine  linen,  and 
sumptuous  faring  every  day  ?  That  would 
not  be  a  peace  which  passeth  knowledge  ;  it 
would  be  a  peace  explainable  by  earthly 
causes.  But  if  the  clouds  should  gather,  if 
the  stars  should  go  out,  if  the  night  winds 
should  blow  and  beat  upon  the  house  of  thy 
life,  and  if  through  all  that  life  should  be 
strong  and  steadfast,  then  verily  thou  hast  a 
peace  not  given  by  the  world — a  peace  inde- 
pendent of  the  earth,  defiant  of  the  wilderness. 
If  the  dove  that  lighteth  from  the  opened 
heavens  can  abide  when  the  heavens  have 
been  closed,  thy  bright  experience  at  Jordan 
shall  be  proved  to  be  no  dream. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  23 

XII. 

TEMPTATION. 

"  And  the  devil,  taking  Him  up  into  an  high  nwunfain, 
showed  ujito  Him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  wo  fid  in  a 
moment  of  time." — Luke  iv.  5. 

The  tempter  had  tried  the  Son  of  Man  through 
the  power  of  de[)ression  ;  he  now  tries  Him 
by  the  power  of  exaltation.  He  had  sought 
to  vanquish  Him  by  the  scourge  of  poverty  ; 
he  now  seeks  to  overcome  Him  by  the  vision 
of  plenty.  He  had  brought  Him  down  into 
the  valley  and  had  tempted  Him  by  the 
dangers  of  humiliation  ;  he  now  carries  Him 
up  to  the  mountain  and  tempts  Him  by  the 
dangers  of  elevation.  And  so  the  tempter 
has  unwittingly  been  teaching  my  heart  a 
lesson.  I  thought  in  the  days  of  old  that 
temptation  belonged  to  certain  circumstances  ; 
I  blamed  my  cross  for  my  siijs.  I  said  within 
myself  that  if  I  could  only  get  a  changed  cross 
I  would  immediately  get  a  changed  life,  that 
if  I  could  be  freed  from  the  burden  and  heat 
of  the  dav  I  would  be  freed  from  the  sin  that 


24  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

SO  easily  besets  me.  I  did  not  know  that  I 
did  not  get  my  sin  from  my  circumstances, 
but  that  I  gave  my  sin  to  my  circumstances. 
Why  was  the  Son  of  Man  superior  to  all 
circumstances  ?  It  was  only  because  He  was 
superior  to  all  sin.  Had  there  been  sin  in 
His  heart  the  valley  would  have  had  the  same 
chance  as  the  mountain.  The  sinful  heart 
will  incarnate  itself  in  everything,  and  will 
find  in  everything  a  temptation.  It  will  be 
tempted  by  poverty  and  it  will  be  tempted 
by  wealth  ;  it  will  be  in  danger  from  the 
stones  of  the  desert,  and  it  will  be  in  danger 
from  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and  their 
glory.  But  the  sinless  heart  will  be  free  from 
temptation  everywhere.  It  will  neither  be 
seduced  by  the  exigencies  of  the  valley  of 
humiliation  nor  by  the  allurements  of  the 
mountain  of  elevation ;  it  will  no  j  turn  the 
stones  into  bread  to  avoid  the  fjimine,  it  will 
not  bow  the  knee  to  Baa]  to  purchase  a 
crown. 

0  Thou  Divine  Spirit,  that  hast  proved  Thy 
strength  alike  over  the  valley  and  over  the 
mountain,  let  me  find  my  strength  in  Thee. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  25 

I  need  Thee,  that  I  may  be  strong  everywhere. 
I  long  to  be  independent  of  all  circumstances, 
alike  of  the  cloud  and  of  the  sunshine.  I  want 
a  power  to  keep  me  from  being  depressed  in 
the  vale  and  to  prevent  me  from  being  giddy 
on  the  height ;  to  save  me  from  sinking  in  de- 
spondency and  to  rescue  me  from  soaring  in 
pride.  I  want  both  a  pillar  of  fire  and  a  pillar 
of  cloud ;  a  refuge  from  the  night  of  adversity 
and  a  shield  from  the  day  of  prosperity.  1 
can  find  them  in  Thee.  Thou  hast  proved 
Thy  power  both  over  the  night  and  over  the 
day  ;  Thou  hast  vanquished  the  tempter  in  the 
valley  and  Thou  hast  conquered  the  tempter 
on  the  hill.  Come  into  my  heart,  and  Thy 
power  shall  be  my  power.  The  earth  shall  be 
mine  and  the  fulness  thereof.  I  shall  be 
victorious  over  all  circumstances,  at  home  in 
all  scenes,  restful  in  all  fortunes.  I  shall  have 
power  to  tread  upon  scorpions,  and  they  shall 
do  me  no  hurt ;  the  world  shall  be  mine  when 
Thy  Spirit  is  in  me. 


26  AIOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

XIII. 

CAN  A  OF  GALILEE. 

"  T/iis  beginning  of  miracles  did  Jesus  in  Cana  of  Galilee, 
and  manifested  forth  His  glory,  and  His  disciples 
believed  on  Him." — John  ii.  xi. 

Strange  place  for  the  first  manifestation  of 
the  Son  of  Man  !  He  had  conquered  the  temp- 
ter in  the  solitudes  of  the  wilderness,  the  place 
where  one  should  have  least  expected  that  the 
tempter  would  be  found,  and  now  He  comes  to 
seek  him  in  that  world  which  is  supposed  to 
be  his  natural  sphere.  Why  did  He  not  remain 
in  that  wilderness  which  He  had  made  beauti- 
ful ?  Why  did  He  not  rest  in  the  solitudes  of 
that  scene  which  He  had  made  a  scene  of  un- 
ruffled contemplation?  It  was  because  the 
design  of  conquering  temptation  is  to  make  us 
fit  for  the  world.  We  do  not  conquer  in  order 
that  we  may  rest,  we  conquer  in  order  that  we 
may  work.  We  are  brought  up  into  the  soli- 
tudes, not  that  we  may  avoid  the  world,  but 
that  we  may  prepare  for  the  world.     We  are 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  27 

made  to  feel  our  loneliness  only  that  we  may  be 
trained  for  not  being  alone.  We  get  our  glory 
that  we  may  manifest  our  glory.  Our  glory  is 
the  choice  of  Christ  over  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world,  and  we  can  only  make  it  in  the  secret 
places  of  the  soul ;  but  when  we  have  made  it, 
the  kingdoms  of  the  world  become  our  sphere. 
The  Son  of  Man  refused  to  turn  the  stones 
into  bread,  but  that  refusal  gave  Him  a  right 
to  turn  the  water  into  wine.  He  was  fit  for 
the  world  because  He  had  shown  Himself  to 
be  unworldly. 

My  soul,  often  hast  thou  asked  thyself  if  it 
is  right  for  thee  to  frequent  the  common  haunts 
of  men ;  if  it  would  not  be  better  for  thee  to 
get  away  from  the  scenes  and  pursuits  of  the 
madding  crowd.  Nay,  but,  my  soul,  who  art 
thou  that  askest  ?  Everything  depends  on  the 
answer  to  that  question.  What  has  been  thy 
past  experience  ?  Has  it  been  frivolous  or  has 
it  been  earnest?  Has  thy  life  been  hitherto 
knit  to  the  things  that  are  perishable  ?  Then 
thou  art  not  fit  to  live  amongst  these  things  . 
they  are  too  strong  for  thee,  they  will  drag  thee 
down  to  their  own  level.     But  hast  thou  passed 


28  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

tlirougli  the  solitudes  of  the  wilderness  ?  Hast 
thou  in  the  strenoth  of  the  Son  of  Man  made 
choice  already  of  the  strait  gate  and  the 
narrow  way  ?  Hast  thou  in  the  silence  of  the 
heart  preferred  the  path  of  duty  to  the  way  of 
pleasure,  and  the  rule  of  princiiDle  to  the  reign 
of  passion  1  Then  thou  hast  received  a  key  to 
open  all  the  doors  of  life  ;  thou  hast  liberty  to 
do  all  thino-s  if  Christ  has  streno-thened  thee. 
The  world  has  become  thine  by  reason  of  thine 
unworldliness.  Tiiou  hast  received  more  free- 
dom of  spiritual  diet  than  is  allowed  to  the 
worldly  mind.  Thou  canst  bear  more  things 
without  hurt  than  the  worldling  can.  Thou 
canst  frequent  more  scenes  without  detriment 
than  the  worldlino-  dare.  Cana  of  Galilee 
shall  be  open  to  thy  steps.  All  the  relation- 
ships of  life  shall  be  endeared  to  thee.  All  the 
pleasures  of  life  shall  be  sweetened  to  thee.  All 
the  pursuits  of  life  shall  be  hallowed  to  thee. 
All  the  burdens  of  life  shall  be  ennobled  to  thee. 
The  Light  that  is  in  thee  is  a  light  to  lighten 
the  Gentiles  as  well  as  the  glory  of  God's 
people  Israel ;  for  he  that  has  prevailed  with 
God  has  power  also  over  man. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  29 


XIV. 

HEAVEN  WITHOUT  A   TEMPLE. 

"And  I  saw  no  temple  therein:  for  the  Lord  God 
Almighty  and  the  Lamb  are  the  temple  of  it." — Rev. 
xxi.  22. 

No  temple  therein  ;  are  these  words  a  promise 
or  a  threat  ?  Heaven  without  a  temple  seems 
a  strange  boon.  Heaven  without  pain,  heaven 
without  death,  heaven  without  sorrow  or  sigh- 
ing,— all  this  I  can  understand ;  but  heaven 
without  a  temple — is  it  not  nature  without  a 
sun  ?  Nay,  verily,  rather  is  it  nature  without 
a  cloud.  What  the  seer  means  to  describe  is 
not  a  heaven  where  there  shall  be  no  religion, 
but  a  heaven  where  there  shall  be  nothing  hut 
relifrion,  where  relio;ion  shall  be  all  in  all.  The 
Jewish  temple  circumscribed  the  range  of 
man's  worship.  It  said,  Thou  shalt  worship 
here  but  not  there,  to-day  but  not  to-morrow, 
in  the  sacred  but  not  in  the  secular,  in  the 
burnt-offering  but  not  in  the  hourly  offering 


30  MOM li NTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

of  the  will.  But  the  vision  of  heaven  without 
a  temple  spoke  volumes.  It  said,  All  places 
are  holy,  all  days  are  holy,  all  duties  are  holy. 
Every  spot  whereon  thou  treadest  is  henceforth 
sacred.  Say  not,  I  must  give  one  portion  of 
my  time  to  God ;  thy  God  claims  all  thy  time 
— thy  heart  and  soul  and  strength  and  mind. 
Say  not,  I  must  cease  betimes  from  work  that 
I  may  worship ;  thy  work  must  itself  be  a 
worship,  a  rest  in  God.  Hast  thou  pondered 
the  meaning  of  these  words,  "  The  Lord  thy 
God  is  a  jealous  God  ?"  God's  love  for  thee 
is  too  divine  to  be  satisfied  with  the  frao-ments 
of  thy  heart ;  He  must  have  all  or  nothing. 
He  will  not  accept  from  thee  the  mere  pauses 
in  thy  pursuit  of  pleasure,  the  mere  breathing- 
spaces  in  thy  race  of  ambition ;  He  will  have 
thee  to  find  Him  everywhere.  He  wall  not  let 
thee  call  one  house  His  edifice  if  thereby  all 
other  houses  be  profaned.  His  temple  is  an 
universal  temple.  Its  height  is  the  summit  of 
heaven,  its  depth  is  the  base  of  sacrifice,  its 
length  is  the  measure  of  eternity,  its  breadth 
is  the  vastness  of  every  finite  need,  its  glory 
is  the  glory  of  the  Lamb. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  31 

0  Tliou,  whose  love  is  not  confined  to  1 
temples  made  with  hands,  enhirge  my  heart  to 
worship  Thee.  Help  me  to  see  Thee  where 
men  see  only  the  world,  to  hear  Thee  where 
men  hear  only  the  voices  of  the  crowd.  En- 
large the  range  of  my  reverence.  Teach  me  to 
realise  the  awful  solemnity  of  the  things  which 
I  call  common.  Impress  me  with  the  truth 
that  the  meanest  household  duty  is  a  service 
of  Thee,  that  the  smallest  act  of  kindness  is  a 
praise  of  Thee,  that  the  tiniest  cup  of  water, 
though  it  were  given  only  in  a  disciple's  name, 
is  a  worship  and  a  love  of  Thee.  Help  me  to 
feel  the  sense  of  Thy  presence  everywhere,  that 
even  in  the  prosaic  haunts  of  men  and  in  the 
commonplace  battles  of  life  I  may  be  able  to 
lift  up  mine  eyes  and  say,  "  This  is  none  other 
than  the  house  of  God,  this  is  the  gate  of 
heaven." 


3?  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

XV. 

NO  MORE  SEA. 
"  There  was  no  more  sea.'^ — Rev.  xxi.  i. 

Human  life  below  has  more  sea  than  land.  It 
is  not  a  connected  contineut — a  brotherhood 
of  souls ;  it  is  a  multitude  of  little  islands 
divided  by  stormy  waves.  There  is  a  great 
gulf  fixed  between  my  life  and  the  life  of  my 
brother — the  gulf  of  self-interest ;  I  cannot 
pass  over  to  him,  and  he  cannot  pass  over  to 
me.  And  the  secret  of  our  separation  is  the 
secret  also  of  our  unrest.  We  live  in  perpetual 
storms  because  we  live  in  perpetual  selfishness ; 
the  wave  of  our  thoughts  rolls  back  upon  our- 
selves. But  in  that  higher  life  which  the  seer 
of  Patmos  saw  the  gulfs  were  all  dried  up,  and 
the  separation  of  land  from  land  appeared  no 
more.  Human  nature  became  to  his  gaze  a 
continent.  Men  lost  their  isolation  and  ran 
together  into  unity.  They  saw  eye  to  eye, 
they  felt  heart  to  heart,  they  wrought  hand  to 
hand,  and  the  glory  of  tlie  Lord  was  revealed 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  33 

because  all  flesh  could  see  it  together.  Eacli 
man  took  up  the  trouble  of  his  hrother-man, 
and  in  taking  the  trouble  of  his  brother  each 
man  lost  his  own.  There  came  a  G;reat  stillness 
over  the  individual  heart.  Its  stillness  came 
because  its  burden  fell,  and  its  burden  fell 
because  the  burdens  of  humanity  rose ;  there 
was  perfect  self-forgetfulness,  therefore  there 
was  no  more  sea. 

0  thou  Son  of  Man,  who,  by  liftiiig  the 
burdens  of  our  liumanity,  hast  made  Thine  own 
yoke  easy  and  Thine  own  burden  light,  lift 
this  life  of  mine  into  sympathy,  into  union 
with  Thee.  I  am  weary  of  myself,  weary  of 
the  din  and  the  battle,  weary  of  the  burden 
and  the  heat.  I  am  seeking  everywhere  for  a 
hiding-place  from  the  storm,  everywhere  for 
a  covert  from  the  tempest.  But  the  storm  is 
not  v/ithout  me,  but  within  ;  the  tempest  is 
not  in  my  circumstances  but  in  me.  Son  of 
Man,  save  me  from  myself,  that  I  may  enter 
into  Thy  peace,  Thine  unspeakable  joy.  In- 
spire me  with  Thine  own  burden  of  love,  that 
the  care  of  self  may  fall  from  me,  and  that  with 
Thy  divine  freedom  I  may  be  free.     Help  me 


34  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

to  take  up  Thy  cross,  that  I  myself  may  be 
lifted  up.  Give  me  Thy  spirit  of  sacrifice,  that 
I  may  be  elevated  above  my  own  fears.  Unite 
me  to  the  great  continent,  the  brotherhood  of 
human  souls,  that  the  storms  of  my  island  life 
may  be  lulled  to  rest ;  then  shall  I  be  able  in 
my  heart  to  say,  "  There  is  no  more  sea." 


XVI. 

WHERE  TO  MEET  WITH  GOD. 

"  ^nd  tliere  J  will  meei  with  the  children  of  Israel,  and 
the  tabernacle  shall  be  sanctified  by  My  glory." — 
ExOD.  xxix.  43. 

"  There  I  will  meet  with  the  children  of 
Israel."  Where  ?  At  the  door  of  the  taber- 
nacle. Not  in  the  tabernacle,  but  at  the 
door.  The  service  of  the  sanctuary  was  to 
them  to  be  sanctified  and  glorified,  because 
the  spirit  of  worship  was  to  meet  them  nt  the 
entrance.  They  were  not  to  be  forced  to  enter 
with  a  worldly  spirit  on  the  chance  of  finding 
light  in  the  progress  of  the  day.     They  were 


MOMENTS  ON  THE   MOUNT.  35 

to  find  lio-lit  on  the  tliresliold  that  was  to 
keep  them  all  tlie  day — light  for  the  morning 
sacrifice,  light  for  the  evening  incense,  light  for 
the  intermediate  hours.  So  has  it  been  with 
me.  I  set  out  through  the  problems  of  life 
on  a  search  for  God,  and  I  did  not  find  God  ; 
I  found  only  problems  that  made  me  doubt  of 
God.  Then  I  said  in  words  of  old,  "  Verily 
Thou  art  a  God  that  hidest  Thyself; "  ''  Why 
art  Thou  so  far  from  helping  me  ?  "  And 
while  I  yet  spake,  a  voice  made  answer  : 
"  Why  didst  thou  not  meet  me  at  the  door  ? 
Thou  hast  been  in  search  of  me  through  the 
labyrinths  of  the  world  ;  why  didst  thou  not 
come  first  to  me  to  lead  thee  through  the 
labyrinths  ?  Thou  hast  been  seeking  to  see 
me  by  the  light  of  the  world  ;  why  didst  thou 
not  rather  seek  to  see  the  worl'd  by  my  light  ? 
I  would  have  made  all  things  clear  to  thee 
if  thou  hadst  met  me  at  the  door.  Thou 
wouldst  not  have  been  surprised  by  the 
mystery  of  sorrow.  I  would  have  shown  thee 
before  starting  that  life  is  not  a  pleasure- 
ground,  but  a  school.  1  would  have  sanctified 
to   thee   in   advance   the  strait   oate   and    tlie 


36  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Harrow  way.  1  would  have  gone  before  thee 
with  a  pillar  of  fire  to  light  each  cloud  by  my 
presence,  so  that  in  the  valley  of  every  shadow 
thou  wouldst  have  said,  '  Surely  the  Lord  was 
in  this  place.'  " 

My  God,  it  is  not  too  late  to  begin  anew. 
Let  me  start  again  on  the  path  of  existence,  no 
longer  in  search  of  Thee,  but  ivith  Thee.  Let 
me  meet  Thee  at  the  door  of  life,  that  Thou 
mayst  be  my  interpreter  through  all  the  way. 
When  crosses  lie  before  me  and  I  call  them 
accidents,  inter[)ret  Thou  to  me  ;  show  me 
that  the  cross  is  the  road  to  the  crown.  When 
weakness  overtakes  me  and  I  call  it  fiiilure, 
interpret  Thou  to  me  ;  show  me  that  Thy 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness.  When 
darkness  hovers  round  me,  and  I  call  it  the 
hiding  of  Thy  countenance,  interpret  thou  to 
me  ;  show  me  that  with  Thee  the  night  is 
even  as  the  noon.  Teach  me  that  all  things 
are  good  and  perfect  gifts  from  Thee — even 
the  terror  by  night  and  the  arrow  that  flieth 
by  day.  Teach  me  that  Thy  love  can  have 
no  variableness  nor  the  least  shadow  of  turn- 
ing.    Let  me  believe  in   Thy  love   before  all 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  37 

events,  that  I  may  interpret  all  events  hij  thy 
love.  The  sacrifices  of  life's  tabernacle  shall  be 
sanctified  when  I  have  met  Thee  at  the  door. 


XVII. 

THE  FIRE  OF  GOD. 

"  And  the  glory  of  the  Lord  appeared  unto  all  the  people. 
And  there  came  a  fire  out  from  before  the  Lord,  and 
consumed  upoji  the  altar  the  burnt  offering.^'' — Lev.  ix. 
23,  24. 

There  are  two  fires  to  which  the  soul  is  sub- 
ject— the  fire  of  sin,  and  the  fire  of  God. 
There  is  a  fire  which  men  call  the  fire  of  hell, 
and  there  is  a  fire  which  they  ought  to  call 
the  fire  of  heaven  ;  the  one  consumes  the  soul, 
the  other  consumes  everything  that  impedes 
the  soul.  The  fire  of  sin  comes  because  God  is 
absent,  but  the  fire  of  God  only  comes  when 
He  Himself  is  near.  So  was  it  with  this  con- 
gregation at  the  door  of  the  tabernacle.  Tliey 
beheld  a  consuming  fire,  but  they  beheld  it 
not  because  God   was  far  away,   but  because 


38  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

He  was  verily  at  the  door.  It  was  only  when 
the  glory  of  God  had  appeared  that  the  con- 
suming fire  appeared.  There  was  no  sacrifice 
to  them,  no  sense  of  pain  to  them,  no  life- 
surrender  to  them,  until  their  eyes  had  rested 
on  the  vision  of  the  Divine  glory.  But  when 
the  vision  of  God's  glory  came  the  consum- 
ing fire  came  too ;  the  sacrifice  and  the  pain 
followed  the  sight  of  God.  "  There  came  a  fire 
out  from  before  the  Lord." 

My  soul,  ponder  deeply  the  meaning  of 
these  words,  for  they  have  a  deep  message  for 
thee.  Often  hast  thou  been  called  to  pass 
through  the  fire,  and  it  has  seemed  to  thee  a 
hard  thing.  It  has  seemed  to  thee  as  if  thy 
God  had  overlooked  thy  cause,  nay,  even  as  if 
thou  wert  under  His  special  judgment.  Didst 
thou  forsret  that  there  is  a  fire  which  burns 
only  the  alloy,  and  burns  it  for  the  sake  of  the 
gold  ?  Didst  thou  forofet  that  there  is  a  suffer- 
ing  which  means  not  enmity  but  fellowship 
with  thy  God  ?  Didst  thou  forget  that  he  who 
follows  closest  after  the  life  Divine  is  ever  he 
who  is  nearest  to  the  cross.  There  are  sacri- 
fices which  can  only  begin  with  the  Christ-life, 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  39 

offerings  which  can  only  be  made  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  Infinite  Glory.  The  fire  of  heaven 
was  God's  first  gift  to  thee ;  it  consumed  the 
dross  and  disencumbered  the  precious  ore.  It 
shall  ever  be  to  thee  a  memory  of  joy,  for. 
walking  in  the  midst  of  the  furnace,  was  One 
like  unto  the  Son  of  Man. 


XVIII. 

CHRISTIAN  ASPIRATION. 

"/  s/ial/  be  satisfied,  when  I  awake,  with  Thy  likeness^^ — 
Ps.  xvii.  15. 

And  shall  nothing  less  than  this  content  thee, 
0  Psalmist  ?  To  awake  in  the  likeness  of  God, 
— it  is  a  bold  aspiration  for  a  frail  and  sinful 
mortal.  I  should  rather  have  expected  thee 
to  have  crouched  down  in  absolute  humiliation 
before  the  blaze  of  the  Infinite  Glory.  I 
should  have  expected  thee  to  have  asked  only 
the  crumbs  that  should  fall  from  the  Master's 
table,  to  have  been  content  with  the  smallest 
token  of  the  Master's  recognition.     Why  didst 


40  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

tliou  not  ask  merely  to  be  made  one  of  the 
hired  servants  in  the  house  of  thy  God,  to  be 
assigned  the  position  of  a  pardoned  and  rein- 
stated slave  ?  Instead  of  that,  thy  demand  is 
insatiable,  inexhaustible.  There  is  no  limit 
to  its  soaring,  there  is  no  bound  to  its  desire. 
It  will  not  be  content  with  the  remission  of  a 
penalty,  it  will  not  be  appeased  with  the  pro- 
mise of  pardon,  it  will  not  even  be  perfectly 
gratified  with  the  message  of  reconciliation,  it 
must  have  union  with  God  Himself.  It  aspires 
to  be  one  with  the  life  and  will  of  the  Highest ; 
it  gazes  into  the  Infinite  Brightness  and  cries, 
"  I  shall  be  satisfied,  when  I  awake,  with  Thy 
likeness." 

My  soul,  the  Psalmist  is  in  this  a  type  of 
thee  at  thy  best.  Whenever  thou  art  near  to 
God  thy  demands  are  insatiable.  It  is  when 
thou  art  far  from  God  that  thine  expectations 
are  small ;  the  narrow  heart  has  a  short  out- 
look. It  is  when  thy  heart  is  enlarged  that 
thy  wants  are  enlarged  ;  thy  wants  are  the 
measure  of  thee,  thy  want  of  God  is  most  of 
all  the  measure  of  tliee.  When  God  has  come 
near  to  thee  thou  wilt  accept  no  compromise. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  41 

Thou  wilt  not  be  satisfied  with  His  outward 
gifts,  thou  wilt  not  be  contented  with  His  pro- 
mise of  pardon  ;  thou  shalt  have  Himself  alone. 
It  will  not  appease  thee  to  be  told  that  tliere 
is  no  more  year  ;  thou  shalt  insist  to  enter  into 
the  joy  of  thy  Lord.  Thou  shalt  ask  to  see  as 
He  sees,  to  will  as  He  wills,  to  know  as  He 
knows.  Thou  shalt  claim  the  privilege  of  a 
kindred  spirit,  whereby  thou  mayest  commune 
with  Him  as  a  man  talketh  with  his  friend  ; 
and  when  the  world  wonders  that  thou  art  not 
at  rest  in  the  possession  of  its  own  gifts,  thou 
shalt  point  thy  finger  upward  and  say,  "  I  shall 
be  satisfied,  when  I  awake,  with  His  likeness." 


XIX. 

CHRIST'S  SYMPATHY. 

^^  J  have  compassion  on  the  multitude,  because  they  have  now 
been  with  me  three  days,  and  have  notliing  to  eat  : 
and  if  I  send  them  away  fasting  to  their  own  houses, 
they  will  faint  by  the  zaay." — Mark  viii.  2,  3. 

The  compassion  here  displayed  by  the  Son  of 
Man  is  a  pity  for  the  common  wants  of  men. 


42  MOM  EMS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

It  is  their  common  wants  that  here  impress 
Him.  He  is  not  afraid  for  this  multitude  as  to 
its  spiritual  condition;  He  knows  that  the  men 
who  compose  it  are  intensely  spiritual.  But 
He  fears  that  the  very  intenseness  of  their 
spiritual  excitement  has  made  them  forget  their 
temporal  necessities.  They  have  been  endur- 
ing physical  privation,  but  they  have  not  felt 
it  because  their  thoughts  have  been  away  from 
themselves ;  their  thoughts  and  their  eyes 
have  been  on  Him.  But  He  knows  that  the 
moment  they  shall  lose  sight  of  Him  their 
physical  privation  shall  exert  itself;  He  knows 
that  the  moment  He  has  sent  them  away  from 
His  presence  they  shall  feel  that  physical  want 
which  they  now  have  without  feeling  it,  and 
His  human  heart  bleeds  for  the  human  needs 
of  mau. 

0  Thou  Son  of  Man,  in  Thy  religion  alone 
is  there  hope  for  those  who  toil.  Tliou  alone 
of  all  masters  hast  sympathy  with  the  needs 
of  the  common  day,  with  the  wants  of  the 
passing  hour.  To  all  other  masters  the  needs 
of  the  common  day  are  ignoble,  the  wants  of 
the  passing   hour  are   yiu.     The  religions  of 


MOMENTS  ON   'I  HE  MOUNT.  43 

men  have  no  sympathy  witli  man  as  man;  they 
call  on  him  to  leave  the  world,  they  frown 
upon  his  struggles  for  the  perishable  bread. 
But  Thou  hast  compassion  on  the  prosaic  toilers 
of  life.  Thou  hast  compassion  on  those  who 
are  fasting  by  the  way,  and  who  have  no 
spiritual  vision  to  break  their  fast.  Thou  hast 
compassion  on  the  crowd  in  which  each  man 
is  alone — alone  with  his  solitary  battle,  alone 
with  his  poverty  and.  care.  Thou  hast  taken 
up  the  cross  of  them  that  labour,  and  hast 
claimed  it  for  Thine  own.  Thou  hast  identified 
Thine  interest  with  the  cry  of  struggling 
millions  :  "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread." 


XX. 

GOD'S  WARNING. 

^'- But  if  ye  will  not  do  so,  behold,  ye  have  sinned  against 
the  Lord  :  and  be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out." — 
Num.  xxxii.  23. 

Should  we  not  have  expected  a  fiercer  denun- 
ciation, a  strono-er  form  of  Divine  threateninsf  ? 
Should  we  not  have  looked  for  such  words  ;is 


44  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

these,  "  If  ye  will  not  do  so,  behold,  ye  have 
sinned  against  the  Lord,  and  the  thunderbolt 
of  the  Lord  will  strike  you  ?  "  Does  it  not 
seem  a  lame  and  impotent  conclusion  to  tell 
these  men  merely  that  if  they  broke  the 
Divine  command  the  result  of  their  sin  would, 
one  day  overtake  them,  that  the  seed  of  their 
own  sowing  would  one  day  be  a  seed  of  bitter- 
ness ?  Is  this  mild  lans^uage  consistent  with 
our  thought  of  the  majesty  of  God  ?  Nay, 
verily,  for  we  have  never  thought  worthily  of 
that  majesty.  We  have  thought  of  Him  as  a 
being  who  shall  destroy  us  if  we  do  not  obey 
Him.  It  is  not  He  that  shall  destroy,  it  is  our- 
selves ;  He  wants  to  save  us  from  ourselves. 
His  is  not  a  threatening,  it  is  a  warning — a 
warning  whose  fulfilment  He  would  deplore 
more  than  we.  Wherefore  does  He  say,  "  In 
the  day  that  thou  eatest  thereof  thou  shalt 
surely  die "  ?  Not  because  He  is  vindictive, 
but  because  sin  is  mortal.  Thy  sin  carries  her 
sting  in  her  own  bosom,  and  the  infinite  love 
that  is  hid  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father  yearns 
to  find  it  and  to  extract  it  ere  it  shall  find  and 
destroy  thee. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  45 

0  Love  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory,  whose 
majesty  is  not  to  destroy  but  to  save,  save  me 
from  myself.  My  past  relentlessly  pursues 
me.  Days  that  I  thought  dead  live  over  again, 
deeds  that  I  deemed  buried  meet  me  on  the 
way  ;  be  thou  my  rearward,  0  my  God.  Fill 
up  that  which  my  life  has  left  behind,  undo 
that  which  my  life  has  done  amiss.  Eepair 
the  places  I  have  wasted,  bind  the  hearts  I  have 
wounded,  dry  the  eyes  I  have  flooded.  Make 
the  evil  I  have  done  to  work  for  good,  so  that 
I  myself  would  not  know  it.  Overrule  the 
acts  I  did  in  malice  ;  weave  them  into  Thy 
Divine  mosaic,  that  my  very  wrath  may  be 
made  to  praise  Thee.  Take  up  my  yesterdays 
into  Thine  own  golden  light,  and  transfigure 
them  there,  that  I  may  learn  with  joyful  sur- 
prise  how  even  against  my  will  I  was  labour- 
ing together  with  Thee ;  so  shall  my  former 
self  find  me  no  more. 


46  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

XXI. 

THE  GROUND  OF  IMMORTALITY. 

"  Arf  Thou  not  /ran  everlasting,  O  Lord  my  God,  mine 
Holy  One?  we  shall  not  die." — Hab.  i.  12. 

Presumptuous  words  these  surely  from  tlie 
creature  to  the  Creator  :  "  Thou  art  from 
everlasting,  therefore  /  shall  not  die."  What 
right  have  I  to  measure  my  life  with  Him  f 
He  is  from  everlasting  ;  I  am  of  yesterday. 
He  has  the  dew  of  His  youth  ;  my  days  de- 
cline as  doth  a  shadow.  He  is  the  same 
yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever ;  my  life  is 
changed  as  a  vesture  every  hour.  AVould  it 
not  be  more  becoming  for  me  to  say,  "  Thou 
art  from  everlasting,  therefore  /  must  die." 
Nay,  my  soul,  thou  hast  not  rightly  read  the 
ground  of  thine  own  hope.  The  prophet  is 
not  seeking  to  have  his  own  life  made  equal 
to  God's  ;  he  is  seeking  to  have  God's  own 
life  in  him.  Bethink  thee  what  mean  such 
words  as  these,  "  Because  1  live,  ye  sliall  live 
also  ;  "  "I  live,  yet  not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in 
me  ;  "  "  Christ    in  you,  the  hope  of  glory." 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  47 

They  mean  that  thy  immortality  is  God's  im- 
mortality. Thy  hope  of  vanquishing  death  is 
thy  possession  in  thyself  of  the  deathless  One. 
It  is  because  the  Everlasting  is  thij  God  that 
His  everlastingness  is  anything  to  thee.  Were 
He  merely  outside  of  thee  it  would  be  indeed 
presumption  in  thee  to  measure  thy  years 
with  Him.  But  He  is  not  outside  of  thee. 
He  has  breathed  into  thy  nostrils  the  breath 
of  His  own  life,  and  it  is  by  that  breath  that 
even  now  thou  livest.  It  is  by  that  breath 
that  even  now  thou  art  victor  over  death 
from  moment  to  moment,  from  hour  to  hour, 
from  day  to  day.  It  is  by  that  breath  that, 
when  flesh  and  heart  faint  and  fail,  thou 
shalt  be  victor  over  death  still,  shalt  find  the 
strength  of  thy  heart  and  thy  portion  for  ever. 
Spirit  of  Christ,  Spirit  in  whose  breath  I 
live  and  move  and  have  my  being,  reveal  day 
by  day  the  power  of  Thy  presence  within  me. 
Eeveal  to  me  that  the  power  of  Thy  presence 
is  the  power  of  my  resurrection,  the  certitude 
of  my  immortality.  Ofttimes  I  stand  aghast 
before  the  gates  of  the  great  mystery ;  I 
wonder    what   thino-s    shall    be   in    the   state 


48  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

after  death.  Teacli  me  that  the  state  after 
death  exists  aU-eady  before  death,  that  I  need 
not  taste  of  death  until  I  have  seen  the 
kingdom  of  God.  Teach  me  that  my  im- 
mortahty  is  not  to  come,  that  it  is  here,  that 
it  is  now.  Teach  me  that  the  life  eternal 
is  not  merely  the  life  beyond  the  grave,  but 
the  life  on  this  side  the  grave.  Keveal  to  me 
that  I  am  now  in  eternity,  that  I  am  breath- 
ing the  very  air  of  those  that  have  passed  the 
gates.  Let  me  have  more  tlian  hope  ;  give 
me  fruition.  Let  me  feel  that  I  am  already 
immortal  ;  that  death  could  no  more  destroy 
my  life  than  it  could  destroy  Thine,  because 
mine  is  Thine.  When  my  strength  is  weakened 
in  the  way,  when  the  shadows  of  the  grave 
seem  to  encompass  me,  help  me  to  remember 
not  so  much  that  there  is  a  life  above  as  that 
there  is  a  life  within.  Help  me  to  remember, 
not  that  Thou  art  waiting  for  me  across  the 
valley,  but  that  Thou  art  waiting  with  me  in 
the  valley  ;  then  shall  the  rod  and  staff  of  my 
comfort  be,  "Thou  art  from  everlasting,  tliere- 
fore  I  shall  not  die." 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  49 


XXII. 

REVELATION. 

"  Oj>en  Tliou  mine  eyes,  that  I  may  leJioId  wondrous  things 
out  of  Thy  law.'"— Vs.  cxix.  i8. 

Wheeefoke  is  it,  my  soul,  that  in  tliy  cry  for 
revelation  thou  lookest  ever  to  the  rending  of 
an  outer  veil  ?  It  seems  to  thee  that  if  there 
could  only  be  a  parting  of  the  clouds,  thou 
wouldst  have  a  vision  of  things  unutterable, 
that  if  thou  couldst  be  transplanted  beyond  the 
clouds,  the  glory  of  the  Lord  would  be  re- 
vealed. And  so  it  is  to  death  thou  lookest  as 
the  great  revealer,  to  that  hour  when  the  silver 
cord  shall  be  loosed  and  the  golden  bowl  shall 
be  broken.  Nay,  my  soul,  but  thou  art  look- 
ing too  far  for  thy  revelation.  Thou  dost  not 
need  to  wait  for  the  loosing  of  the  silver  cord 
or  the  breaking  of  the  golden  bowl.  What 
thou  needest  is  not  a  new  scene,  but  a  new 
.  sense.  There  are  beauties  undisclosed  lying 
at  thy  feet  waiting  for  that  sense  to  come. 
The  prayer  for  thee  is  :  ''  Open  Thou  mine 


so  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

eyes,  that  I  may  behold  wondrous  things." 
The  wondrous  things  of  thy  God  are  already 
around  thee  ;  they  are  lying  at  the  door  of 
thy  being,  they  are  touching  the  hem  of  thy 
garment.  To  see  them  thou  dost  not  need  to 
be  transplanted  either  by  life  or  by  death. 
Thou  dost  not  need  to  change  thy  place  even 
by  an  hair's-breadth ;  thou  hast  want  only  of 
an  eye.  One  other  spiritual  sense  would  make 
to  thee  a  new  universe,  another  world  without 
and  within.  It  would  clothe  the  woods  in  fresh 
verdure,  it  would  paint  the  flowers  in  new 
beauty,  it  would  gild  the  sunbeams  in  un- 
wonted glory.  It  would  throw  light  upon 
dark  places  of  creation,  it  would  illuminate 
unfrequented  depths  of  thought,  it  would  make 
clear  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
problems  that  have  wrung  the  heart  with  pain. 
What  thinkest  thou  mean  these  words,  "  And 
Abraham  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  looked,  and 
behold,  behind  him  a  ram  caught  in  a  thicket "  ? 
He  had  been  perplexing  his  mind  as  to  where 
lie  should  find  a  burnt-ofi'ering — a  substitute 
for  his  own  pain  ;  this  ram  caught  in  the 
thicket   came    to    him   as  a  revelation.     Yet 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  51 

whence  came  the  revelation  ?  Only  from  the 
lifting  up  of  his  eyes.  The  ram  had  all  along 
been  in  that  thicket ;  he  merely  needed  to  see 
it.  While  he  had  been  waiting^  for  his  con- 
solation,  his  consolation  had  been  waiting:  for 
him.  The  boon  which  he  sought  was  already 
"behind  him  ;"  he  had  jDassed  it  by  on  the 
way.  When  he  opened  his  eyes  what  he  saw 
was  his  own  past — the  glory  of  something 
which  had  escaped  him  on  the  journey.  Even 
so,  my  soul,  is  it  with  thee.  There  are  pas- 
sages of  God's  law,  written  and  unwritten, 
which  thou  art  passing  heedlessly  by,  which 
thou  hast  perused  without  interest  as  slight 
and  commonplace  thiijgs.  One  day  thou  shalt 
know  that  thou  hast  been  in  contact  with 
angels  unawares.  One  day  thou  shalt  know 
that  what  thou  hast  passed  by  on  the  way 
was  a  treasure  of  purest  gold.  Thou  too,  like 
Abraham,  shalt  look  behind  thee  and  find  in 
these  neglected  things  the  remedy  for  all  thy 
pain  ;  when  thine  eye  shall  open  upon  thy 
past  thou  shalt  awake  to  the  vision  of  its 
wondrous  glory. 


52  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT, 

XXIII. 

THE  INWARDNESS  OF  REVELATION. 

"  To  reveal  His  Son  in  me." — Gal.  i.  i6. 

St.  Paul  is  here  describing  the  process  of  his 
own  conversion,  the  light  which  he  saw  from 
heaven.  He  says  that  it  pleased  God  to  reveal 
His  Son  in  him.  Why  in  him  ?  Wherefore 
does  he  not  say,  "  It  pleased  God  to  reveal  His 
Son  to  me "  ?  Was  not  the  light  which  he 
saw  an  outer  vision  ?  Did  it  not  arrest  him 
at  midday  with  a  glory  above  the  brightness 
of  the  sun  1  Did  it  not  bar  the  way  to  his  old 
nature,  and  bid  his  life  to  pause  in  the  midst 
of  his  journey  ?  Surely  that  picture  of  his 
Lord  was  a  vision  to  his  eye.  Nay,  but  can 
any  picture  be  a  vision  to  the  eye  ?  Can  a 
thing  be  revealed  to  me  which  has  not  been 
revealed  in  me  ?  Is  the  landscape  on  which  I 
ga.iie  revealed  only  to  my  outward  vision  ? 
Nay,  or  it  would  not  be  revealed  at  all ;  there 
could  be  no  beauty  without  if  there  were  not 
a  sense  of  beauty  within.      Is  the  music  to 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  53 

wliicli  I  listen  revealed  only  to  my  outward 
.  ear  ?  Nay,  or  I  would  be  deaf  to  it  for  ever- 
more ;  there  could  be  no  harmony  without  if 
there  were  not  a  sense  of  harmony  within. 
So  is  it  with  the  beauty  of  Him  who  is  fairer 
than  the  children  of  men.  Often  have  I 
envied  the  lot  of  those  who  were  permitted  to 
gaze  upon  His  outward  form,  to  see  the  beam 
on  His  face,  to  hear  the  thrill  in  His  voice. 
Yet  was  it  not  the  very  cliief  of  these  to  whom 
the  words  were  spoken,  "  Flesh  and  blood  hath 
not  revealed  it  unto  thee."  It  was  not  the 
eye  which  saw  the  beam,  it  was  not  the  ear 
which  heard  the  thrill ;  it  was  the  soul,  the 
heart,  the  life,  the  responsive  spirit  bearing 
witness  with  His  Spirit,  the  kindred  sympathy 
that  ran  out  to  meet  its  counterpart,  and  found 
in  Him  all  its  salvation  because  it  found  in 
Him  all  its  desire. 

My  God,  reveal  Thy  Son  in  me.  I  ask  for 
more  than  an  audible  voice,  because  I  need 
more.  It  would  not  help  me  to  behold  Thy 
liandwritiiig  on  the  clouds  of  heaven  ;  it  would 
be  but  the  letter.^  of  a  book  to  the  child  that 
cannot  read.     Teach  me  the  meaning  of  Thy 


54  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

words.  No  description  of  Tlij  heavens  could 
declare  their  glory  to  the  born  blind  ;  no 
description  of  Thy  Christ  could  manifest  His 
greatness  to  the  loveless  soul.  Therefore,  0 
Spirit  of  love,  breathe  into  this  heart  the  new 
sensation  of  loving,  the  new  experience  of 
being  loved.  Inspire  this  consciousness  with 
that  thought  which  transcends  all  the  channels 
of  the  natural  sense.  Unseal  the  inner  eye, 
unstop  the  spiritual  ear,  that  the  symmetries 
and  the  harmonies  of  all  worlds  may  be  re- 
vealed. It  is  in  Thy  light  alone  that  we  shall 
see  liglit.  Only  they  who  are  rooted  and 
grounded  in  love  shall  be  able  to  comprehend 
that  love  of  Thine,  which,  although  familiar  to 
all  saints,  passeth  finite  knowledge.  I  shall 
see  the  King  in  His  beauty  when  His  beauty 
shall  be  revealed  in  me. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  55 


XXIV. 

DESERT  EXPERIENCES. 

"  And  the  augcl  of  the  Lord  sj)ake  unto  Philip,  saying, 
Arise,  and  go  toward  the  sojith,  imto  the  ivay  that 
goeth  down  from  Jerusalem  unto  Gaza,  which  is 
desert." — Acts  viii.  26. 

"  Arise,  and  go  unto  tlie  way  which  is  desert." 
Startling  words  these  to  be  addressed  by  an 
ano-el  of  goodness  to  an  earnest  human  soul. 
They  would  be  startling  if  addressed  to  any 
man,  but  they  are  specially  so  when  spoken  to  a 
man  of  God.  To  tell  the  zealous  missionary  to 
go  into  the  desert,  to  bid  the  seeker  of  souls  to 
frequent  that  spot  where  souls  are  least  expected 
to  be,  it  was  surely  a  strange,  an  unprece- 
dented mandate.  Nay,  not  unprecedented  ;  it 
has  its  parallel  in  your  life  and  mine.  How 
often  in  the  midday  of  our  career  lias  an  arrest- 
ing hand  seemed  to  bar  our  progress,  has  an 
arresting  voice  seemed  to  say,  "  Hitherto  shalt 
thou  go,  and  no  further."  My  strength  was 
weakened    in    the    way   ut  the  very  moment 


56  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

when  I  thought  myself  to  be  doing  God  ser- 
vice, at  the  very  moment  when  all  I  appeared 
to  want  was  just  an  increase  of  strength. 
Sickness  came,  privation  came,  obloquy  came, 
and  I  had  to  leave  my  work  undone.  At  such 
moments  I  cried,  "  To  what  purpose  is  this 
waste?"  I  asked,  Why  is  my  life  pent  up 
within  this  narrow^  sphere,  wdiy  are  my  days 
confined  within  these  trivial  limits  ?  I  have 
capabilities  for  great  work,  I  have  powers  for 
great  heroism,  I  have  aspirations  for  great 
deeds  of  service ;  wherefore  has  it  been  said 
to  me,  "  Go  down  unto  the  way  which  is 
desert"? 

My  soul,  it  is  because  there  are  moments  in 
which  the  life  of  the  desert  is  to  thee  the  fulness 
of  life.  Philip  perhaps  murmured  at  the  man- 
date given  to  him,  yet  it  was  this  mandate 
which  made  his  name  glorious  ;  he  founded  in 
that  desert  the  bemnnii]©;  of  a  kiiio-dom.  So 
is  it  with  thy  desert  moments  ;  they  are 
moments  of  the  grandest  service.  Thinkest 
thou  that  thy  God  is  only  served  by  working? 
He  is  even  more  served  by  waiting  and  by 
bearing.     The  heart  which  can  tarry  for  Him 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  57 

in  the  solitudes  of  the  wiklerness  is  to  Him 
the  dearest  heart  of  all  Methinks  that  the 
lawsfiver  Moses  was  never  more  fair  in  the 
sioht  of  God  than  when  it  was  written  of  him, 

o 

"  By  faith  he  endured,  as  seeing  Him  who  is  in- 
visible." It  was  the  waiting  without  a  miracle, 
without  a  manifestation,  without  a  sign,  the 
waiting  for  something  which  reason  said  was 
impossible,  and  which  experience  said  would 
never  come ;  it  was  these  desert  hours  that 
made  his  life  so  rich,  so  fruitful,  so  luxuriant. 
So  has  it  been  with  tliee.  "What  thou  calledst 
thy  times  of  waste  were  thy  times  of  highest 
blessing.  In  the  day  when  thou  saidst,  I  am 
alone,  thy  life  was  being  crowded,  surrounded, 
thronged  by  a  great  cloud  of  witnesses,  by 
the  general  assembl}^  of  the  firstborn,  by  the 
voices  of  a  multitude  which  no  man  could 
number.  Thou  wert  greatest  when  it  seemed 
to  thyself  that  thou  wert  lowliest ;  thy  dark- 
ness was  thy  day,  thy  cross  was  thy  crown, 
thy  thorn  was  thy  flower,  thy  desert  was  the 
city  of  thy  God.  "Bless  the  Lord,  0  my 
soul." 


58  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

XXV. 

VISION  IN  OLD  AGE. 

"  I/i's  eye  tvas  not  dim,  nor  his  natural  force  abated.'" — 
Deut.  xxxiv.  7. 

Most  of  us  have  our  brightest  visions  in  the 
days  of  our  youth.  The  time  when  men  com- 
monly stand  on  Mount  Nebo  is  the  hour  of 
life's  morning ;  it  is  then  that  the  promised 
Land  appears  most  glorious,  it  is  then  that  the 
prospective  eye  is  least  dimmed  by  experience. 
But  til  is  man  Moses  was  an  exception  to  the 
rule  ;  his  vision  came  in  old  age.  The  days  of 
his  youth  and  manhood  had  been  too  prosaic  for 
poetic  flights.  They  had  been  days  of  danger, 
days  of  anxiety,  days  of  burden-bearing,  days 
of  commonplace  annoyances,  more  hard  to 
endure  because  they  were  commonplace.  It 
was  only  at  the  last  that  his  child-life  came. 
It  was  only  amid  the  twilight  shadows  that 
there  rose  to  him  that  vision  which  men  are 
wont  to  behold  at  niornino; — the  vision  of 
coming  glory,  the  prospect  of  a  promised  land. 


MOMENTS  OxV  THE  MOUNT.  59 

IIis  age  of  jintici|)atioii  began  where  Lis  age 
of  experience  ended,  his  inner  man  was  renewed 
where  his  outer  man  was  aljout  to  })erish.  In 
the  viooiir  of  manliood,  in  front  of  the  burnino- 
fire  of  God,  he  had  felt  his  vision  dim  ;  in  the 
extremity  of  old  age  he  had  neither  a  doubt 
nor  a  fear.  "  His  eye  was  not  dim,  nor  his 
natural  force  abated." 

My  soul,  if  thou  couldst  live  this  life  of 
sacrifice,  thou  too  wouldst  have  a  vision  in  the 
hour  of  death.  There  is  a  life  whose  natural 
force  is  not  abated  with  the  years ;  it  grows 
stronger  w4ien  other  things  fade.  "  Whether 
there  be  prophecies,  they  shall  fail ;  whether 
there  be  tongues,  they  shall  cease ;  whether 
there  be  knowledge,  it  shall  vanish  away  ;  but 
love  never  faileth."  It  is  the  Nebo  of  old  age, 
the  heiofht  from  which  amid  surrouudins^  ruins 
the  heart  surveys  its  promised  land.  That 
height  of  certainty  may  be  thine.  If  love  be 
in  thee,  it  will  survive  all  things.  Memory 
may  fade,  fancy  may  droop,  judgment  may 
waver,  perception  may  languish,  but  the  eye 
of  the  heart  shall  grow  brighter  toward  the 
close.       That    which    men    have    called    "  the 


6o  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

valley"  sliall  be  to  thee  a  mountain.  Thou 
shalt  face  the  setting  sun,  and  shalt  see  in  it  a 
new  rising.  The  clouds  that  environ  the  intel- 
lect shall  break  before  the  childhood  of  the 
spirit,  and  amid  the  snows  of  winter  thy  time 
for  the  singing  of  birds  shall  come.  Thou 
shalt  gaze  upon  a  world's  dissolving  views,  and 
say,  "  0  death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  0  grave, 
where  is  thy  victory  ?  " 


XXVI. 

THE  THORN. 


"  And  lest  I  should  be  exalted  above  measure  through  the 
abundance  of  the  revelations,  there  was  given  to  me  a 
thorn  in  thejlcsh" — 2  CoR.  xii.  7. 

"  There  w\is  given  to  me ; "  can,  then,  the 
thorn  be  a  gift  from  God  ?  I  am  in  the  habit 
of  seeing  God's  gifts  in  the  abundance  of  the 
things  which  my  life  possesses,  and  I  call 
those  things  the  dangers  of  life  which  diminish 
the  sum  of  its  abundance.  But  here  there 
is  a  complete    reversal    of   my  thought ;    the 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  6i 

nl)un(l;iiice  is  the  danger,  and  that  wliic.li 
diiiniiislies  it  is  the  gift.  Paul  has  been 
exalted  above  measure;  he  has  been  standing 
on  the  heights  of  prosperity,  and  summering 
in  tlie  sunshine  of  a  cloudless  day.  The 
cloudle^sness  of  the  day  is  his  greatest  danger, 
and  there  is  sent  a  mist  over  the  sun. 
His  spiritual  life  has  been  redolent  with  the 
breath  of  flowers,  and  there  is  sent  a  thorn 
amongst  the  flowers.  The  thorn  is  for  the 
time  God's  best  gift  to  his  soul ;  there  is  some- 
thing protective  in  it.  It  has  no  fragrance,  it 
has  no  beauty,  but  it  yields  one  of  the  sweetest 
uses  of  adversity — it  reminds  a  human  spirit 
that  it  is  after  all  only  human. 

My  God,  I  have  never  thanked  Thee  for  my 
thorn.  I  have  thanked  Thee  a  thousand  times 
for  my  roses,  but  not  once  for  my  thorn.  I 
have  been  looking  forward  to  a  world  where 
[  shall  get  compensation  for  my  cross,  but  I 
have  never  thought  of  my  cross  as  itself  a  j)re- 
sent  glory.  Thou  Divine  Love,  whose  human 
path  has  been  perfected  through  sufferings, 
teach  me  the  glory  of  my  cross,  teach  me  the 
value  of  my  thorn.     Show  me   that  I  have 


62  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

climbed  to  Thee  the  path  of  pain.  Show  me 
that  my  tears  have  made  my  rainbow.  Reveal 
to  me  that  my  strength  was  the  product  of 
that  hour  when  I  wrestled  until  the  breaking 
of  the  day.  Then  shall  I  know  that  my  thorn 
was  blessed  by  Thee,  then  shall  I  know  that 
my  cross  was  a  gift  from  Thee,  and  I  shall 
raise  a  monument  to  the  hour  of  my  sorrow, 
and  the  words  which  I  shall  write  upon  it  will 
be  these :  "  It  was  good  for  me  to  have  been 
afflicted." 


XXVII. 

THE  GLORY  OF  SUFFERING. 

"  J*br  our  light  afflu-tio7i,  winch  is  but  for  a  moment, 
worketh  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  ajid  eter?ial 
weight  of  glory." — 2  CoR.  iv.  17. 

*'  Affliction  worketh  glory;"  "  our  light  afflic- 
tion worketh  an  exceeding  iceight  of  glory ;  '* 
"  our  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment, 
worketh  an  eternal  weight  of  glory."  Every 
word   is  a  marked   and  beautiful   antithesis. 


MOME.\'TS  ON   THE  MOUNT.  63 

The  mind  of  the  apostle  is  overwhelmed  b}^  the 
contrast  between  the  seen  and  the  unseen,  and 
as  he  rises  in  his  flight  of  contemplation,  the 
calamities  of  earth  dwindle  into  insignificant 
smallness  till  there  is  nothing  visible  but  glory. 
Yet,  strange  to  say,  he  describes  the  glory  by 
an  old  earthly  metaphor,  nay,  by  the  very 
metaphor  he  used  to  apply  to  his  afflictions  ; 
he  calls  it  a  iveight.  We  speak  of  a  weight  of 
care,  a  weight  of  sorrow,  a  weight  of  anxiety  ; 
but  a  weight  of  glory  !  surely  that  is  a  startling 
symbol.  We  do  not  think  of  a  man  as  being 
crushed,  overwhelmed,  weighed  down  by 
glory.  We  should  have  thought  that  the  old 
metaphor  of  care  would  have  been  repulsive, 
that  it  would  have  been  cast  off  like  a  worn- 
out  garment  and  remembered  no  more  for 
ever.  Nay,  but  the  old  garment  is  not  worn 
out  when  the  glory  comes,  it  is  only  trans- 
figured ;  that  which  made  thy  weight  of  care 
is  that  which  makes  thy  weight  of  glory. 
Thou  needest  not  a  new  object  but  a  new 
light — to  see  by  day  what  thou  hast  only  seen 
in  darkness.  Often  have  I  pondered  that 
prayer  of  the  Psalmist,  "  0  send  out  Thy  light 


64  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

nnd  Tiiy  truth;  let  them  lead  me."  Ho  dues 
not  ask  for  new  circumstances,  but  for  a  new 
light  on  the  old  circumstances.  Thou  who  art 
weighted  with  some  heavy  burden,  pause  ere 
thou  askest  its  removal ;  thy  weiglit  of  pre- 
sent care  may  be  thy  weight  of  future  glory — • 
may  be,  nay,  must  be  when  light  shall  dawn. 
When  thou  wert  a  child,  study  was  a  weight 
of  care  to  thee  ;  now  that  thou  art  a  man,  it  is 
a  weight  of  glory ;  thou  comfortest  thyself 
that  thou  wert  able  to  endure.  So  shall  it  be 
with  the  tasks  of  the  larger  school.  One  day 
thou  shalt  look  back  and  find  them  to  have 
been  all  very  good.  From  the  light  of  thy 
seventh  morning  thou  shalt  look  back,  from 
the  summit  of  the  finished  creation  thou  shalt 
behold  thy  six  days  of  toil,  and  there  shall  be 
no  night  there.  Thy  past  shall  be  glorious 
when  it  is  past.  Thou  shalt  retrace  the  steps 
of  thy  way,  and  find  them  to  have  been  the 
steps  to  thy  Sabbath  of  rest.  Thou  shalt 
weigh  in  the  balance  the  former  days,  and  they 
shall  weigh  even  heavier  than  of  yore ;  but 
that  which  was  once  a  weight  of  care  shall  be 
then  a  weight  of  glory. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  6$ 

XXVIII. 

THE  POWER  OF  CHRIST S  SACRIFICE. 

"  Therefore  doth  my  Father  love  me,  because  I  lay  down  my 
life.  .  .  .  No  ma7i  iakcth  it  from  me.  .  .  .  /  have 
power  to  lay  it  down.'" — John  x.  17,  18. 

"Therefore  doth  my  Father  love  me."  What 
is  this  secret  of  the  Father's  love  ?  Why  is  it 
that  the  heart  of  the  Father  rejoices  in  the 
Soil  ?  Is  it  because  of  the  pain  of  the  Son's 
sacrifice  ?  Is  it  because  His  Father  beheld  in 
Him  a  victim  on  the  altar  of  death  ?  Nay,  it 
is  because  on  the  altar  of  death  He  beholds 
in  Him  an  offerino-  that  is  no  victim.  The 
Father's  heart  rejoices  not  that  the  Son  is  com- 
pelled to  die,  but  that  the  Son  can  die  without 
compulsion,  that  He  has  power  to  lay  down 
His  life.  All  other  sacrifices  had  been  types 
of  impotence,  but  this  was  a  type  of  power. 
Never  had  the  strenoth  of  will  been  manifested 
so  gloriously.  There  had  been  great  con- 
querors and  mighty  w^arriors,  who  had  paved 
their  own  wav  throuQ;h  the   hearts  of  others : 


66  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

here  was  a  life  that  could  pave  a  way  for 
others  throug-h  its  own  heart.  0  strength 
perfected  in  weakness,  0  self-surrendering 
power  of  love,  we,  like  the  Father,  yield  our 
henrts  to  Thee.  If  it  had  been  mere  resii^na- 
tion  to  death  we  could  have  admired  Thee  ;  if 
it.  had  been  the  mere  distaste  for  life  we  could 
have  pitied  Thee  ;  but  since  it  is  tlie  choice  of 
love  we  love  Thee.  We  magnify  the  power 
that  could  relinquish  power,  the  might  that 
could  abandon  mig-ht,  the  will  that  could 
resign  will.  Thou  art  most  crowned  to  us  in 
the  valley  of  Thy  humiliation.  Thou  art  most 
glorious  to  us  in  the  shades  of  Thy  Geth- 
semane.  We  feel  that  Thou  art  no  victim, 
that  Thy  love  has  chosen  the  burden,  that 
Thou  wouldst  not  have  it;  otherwise  for  twelve 
legions  of  angels.  Therefore  Thy  cross  is  to 
us  not  a  weakness  but  a  powder;  we  are  not 
ashamed  of  it,  we  glory  in  it,  we  long  to  be 
like  it.  We  pant  to  be  made  conformable 
unto  Thy  death,  to  have  our  wills  set  free 
from  their  own  burning.  We  gaze  on  Thee 
till  wo  shall  catch  Thine  impress,  till  we  shall 
be  transformed  into  Thine  image  from  glory  to 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  67 

glory,  till  we  shall  say,  not  with  resignation 
but  with  acquiescence,  "Thy  will  be  done," 
We  shall  get  back  our  joy  the  momont  we 
have  ceased  to  seek  it;  when  we  shall  have 
power  to  lay  down  our  life  we  shall  have  power 
to  take  it  again. 


XXIX. 

THE  SECRET  OF  PEACE. 

"  He  malzeth  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures  ;  He  leadetJi 
vie  beside  the  still  tvaters  ;  He  restoreth  my  sotil." — 
Ps.  xxiii.  2,  3. 

One  is  apt  to  say,  it  was  an  easy  thing  for  a 
man  with  such  an  experience  to  confess  the 
Lord  to  be  his  Shepherd  ;  who  w^ould  not  re- 
joice in  a  God  who  should  make  him  to  lie 
down  in  green  pastures'?  Yet,  in  truth,  he  who 
says  thus  has  not  sounded  the  deptbs  of  his  own 
being.  No  man  can  lie  down  anywhere  until 
he  has  received  a  restored  soul.  It  is  as  diffi- 
cult for  the  unrestored  soul  to  lie  down  in  green 
pastures    as    to   lie    down    in    barren    wastes. 


68  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Thinkest  thou  that  an  unrestful  heart  will 
have  more  rest  in  prosperity  than  in  adversity  ? 
Nay,  verily,  it  will  carry  itself  into  everything. 
Prosperity  lies  not  in  the  greenness  of  the 
pastures,  adversity  lies  not  in  the  barrenness 
of  the  wastes ;  they  both  lie  within.  The 
joyous  heart  will  make  all  things  joyful ;  its 
pastures  will  all  be  green,  and  its  w^aters  will 
all  be  quiet.  Tlie  restless  heart  will  make  all 
things  unrestful ;  the  very  calmness  of  its 
outward  w^orld  will  become  its  source  of  pain. 
We  cannot  fly  from  ourselves  by  changing  our 
circumstances  ;  we  can  only  change  our  circum- 
stances by  flying  from  ourselves.  The  sweet- 
ness and  the  bitterness  of  life  are  alike  within 
us,  and  we  shall  get  from  the  world  just  what 
we  bring  to  it.  Therefore,  my  soul,  if  thou 
wouldst  have  green  pastures,  if  thou  wouldst 
have  quiet  waters,  if  thou  wouldst  have  any 
spot  at  all  wherein  thou  canst  lie  down  and 
rest,  then  must  thou  thyself  be  first  restored. 
Thou  must  be  set  at  rest  from  thine  own  selfish- 
ness ere  any  place  can  be  to  thee  a  scene  of 
repose.  Thou  must  thyself  be  filled  ere  the 
fulness  of  the  earth  can  be  thine,  yea,  ere  the 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  69 

emptiness  of  the  earth  can  be  thine.  Thou 
hast  a  claim  to  the  earth's  emptiness  as  well 
as  to  its  fulness.  If  thou  art  at  rest  all 
things  are  thine — the  world,  life,  death,  angels, 
principalities,  powers;  thou  canst  claim  tlicni 
as  thy  possessions,  thou  canst  command  them 
as  thy  servants.  The  winds  are  thy  messengers, 
the  fires  are  thy  ministers,  the  clouds  are  thy 
chariots  ;  thou  canst  extract  joy  out  of  sorrow. 
Thou  shalt  sleep  in  the  ship  of  life  when  the 
storm  is  raging  around  thee.  Thou  shalt 
spread  thy  table  in  peace  in  the  presence  of 
thine  enemies,  and  shalt  fail  to  perceive  their 
enmity.  Thy  calm  shall  reflect  itself.  Thou 
shalt  see  it  mirrored  in  the  face  of  creation, 
and  the  face  of  creation  shall  to  thee  be 
beautiful ;  it  shall  answer  back  thy  smile. 
All  the  days  of  thy  life  goodness  and  mercy 
shall  follow  thee  when  thou  thyself  hast  been 
restored. 


70  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT, 

XXX. 

THE  OMNIPRESENT  GOD. 

*'  TTiou  hast  beset  me  behind  and  before,  and  laid  Thine 
hand  upon  nie." — Ps.  cxxxix.  5. 

In  three  directions  hast  Thou  beset  me,  0 
God.  Thou  art  behind  me,  Thou  art  before 
me,  Thou  art  in  contact  with  me.  Tliou  art 
behind  me  in  my  past,  Thou  art  before  me  in 
my  future,  Thou  art  in  contact  with  me  in 
the  pressure  of  my  present  hour.  In  all  these 
relations  I  need  Thee  every  day.  I  am  bound 
to  three  worlds,  and  any  one  of  them  would 
crush  me  were  I  not  beset  by  Thee.  I  am 
bound  to  the  past,  and  its  chain  ojDpresses 
me ;  I  am  bound  to  the  future,  and  its  shadows 
appal  me ;  I  am  bound  to  the  present,  and 
its  conflict  perturbs  me.  I  want  rest  for  my 
threefold  self — rest  in  Thee.  Beset  my  dark 
past  with  Thy  presence  ;  take  up  its  clouds 
and  turn  them  into  sunshine.  Beset  my 
shadowy  future  with  Thy  glory  ;  reveal  the 
rainbow  of  Thy  promise  to  the  eye  of  faith. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  71 

Beset  mj  arduous  present  with  the  sense  of 
Thy  nearness  ;  let  me  feel  laid  on  me  the 
pressure  of  Tliy  hand.  I  care  not  though  the 
pressure  be  heavy  if  only  it  be  Thine  ;  the 
yoke  that  comes  from  Thee  is  ever  easy,  the 
burden  that  Thou  sendest  is  ever  light.  I 
know  tl^at  wheresoever  Thy  presence  is  felt 
there  is  experienced  a  sense  of  weight,  the 
laying  on  of  an  invisible  hand,  but  I  know, 
too,  that  the  weight  is  of  gold.  I  would  not  be 
without  it  if  I  could  ;  it  is  that  which  men 
call  responsibility,  and  it  tells  me  that  I  am  a 
man.  I  may  never  again  have  the  carelessness 
of  the  child,  for  it  is  a  solemn  thing  to  know 
that  I  am  with  Thee.  But  there  is  some- 
thing better  than  the  carelessness  of  the  child  ; 
it  is  the  carefulness  of  a  spirit  weighted  with 
a  sense  of  God.  Therefore,  0  Lord,  impress 
me  with  the  magnitude,  with  the  solemnity, 
with  the  awfulness  of  beins:  a  man.  Teach 
me  that  I  am  not  my  own,  that  I  live  not  to 
myself,  that  I  die  not  to  myself  Lay  on  me 
the  weight  of  my  moral  obligation.  Lay  on 
me  the  weig-ht  of  feelino;  and  knowino:  that  I 
am  a  responsible  human  soul.     Let  me  hear 


72  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

the  voice  of  conscience,  "  You  ouglit,  tliere- 
fore  you  can."  Let  me  hear  the  voice  of  my 
brother  crying  unto  me  from  the  ground  of 
earthly  abasement  for  succour,  for  soLace,  for 
sustenance.  Give  me  the  burden  that  Thou 
hast  made  golden — the  burden  of  a  life  that  is 
straitened  till  its  baptism  be  accomplished, 
oppressed  until  its  work  be  done.  Fill  me 
with  a  sense  of  universal  care,  that  I  may 
be  rendered  individually  strong  ;  Thy  power 
shall  be  great  in  me  when  Thou  hast  laid  on 
me  Thine  hand. 


XXXI. 

THE  SUPERNATURAL  IN  THE  NATURAL. 
"  And  He  must  needs  go  through  Samaria.^' — John  iv.  4. 

Humanly  speaking,  it  was  all  a  chapter  of 
commonplaces.  There  was  nothing  in  the 
meetino;  at  Svchar's  well  that  could  not  be 
explained  by  natural  law.  There  was  no 
miracle  in  the  Master  going  through  Samaria ; 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  j^ 

He  must  needs  go  through  Samaria,  it  hxy 
geographically  on  his  way  to  Galilee.  There 
was  no  miracle  in  the  Master  restino-  at  the 
well ;  He  must  needs  rest  at  the  w.ell,  He 
was  weary  and  He  wanted  rest.  There 
was  no  miracle  in  the  Master  finding  the 
woman  whom  He  made  His  disciple ;  He 
must  needs  find  her,  she  was  in  search  of 
water,  and  she  came  to  draw.  The  whole 
scene  was  pieced  together  by  the  order  oi 
natural  laws,  by  the  union  of  natural  forces, 
and  each  separate  event  before  it  happened 
was  just  what  might  have  been  foreseen.  Al- 
beit the  mosaic  was  divine  ;  there  was  more 
in  the  whole  than  in  all  the  separate  parts. 
Each  natural  incident  was  the  minister  to  an 
end  beyond  itself — the  agent  toward  a  con- 
summation it  could  not  see.  The  three 
natural  needs  made  a  supernatural  result ; 
they  brought  Divine  life  into  a  nation.  My 
soul,  do  not  refuse  to  see  God  in  the  events  of 
thy  life  because  thou  canst  trace  human  links 
between  them.  Was  Peter's  vision  of  the 
meat  from  heaven  less  real  because  the  dream 
came  from  his  hunger  1     Nay,  for  the  hunger 


74  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

and  the  dream  were  alike  God's  messeuorers  to 

o 

him.  Thy  treasure  is  hid  in  earthen  vessels. 
God  speaks  to  thee  in  trifles — in  the  passage 
through  Samaria,  in  the  thirst  for  earthly- 
water,  in  the  coming  to  a  well.  Say  not  that 
the  little  things  of  thy  life  are  common  ;  God 
will  cleanse  them  in  the  mosaic,  they  will  all 
be  precious  in  their  harmony  with  the  com- 
pleted whole.  Thou  shalt  see  the  old  deeds 
pass  before  thee ;  they  shall  gather  them- 
selves together  to  judgment,  and  many  that 
are  first  shall  be  last,  and  many  that  are  last 
shall  be  first.  Valleys  shall  become  mountains 
in  the  light  of  the  perfect  day.  Hours  that 
seemed  to  be  of  no  account,  moments  that 
appeared  to  be  of  little  value,  actions  that  in 
their  passing  were  called  but  ripples  in  the 
stream,  will  be  found  to  have  been  the  tidal 
wave  that  led  thy  life  to  fortune.  Neglect  not 
thy  wells  of  Sychar,  0  my  soul,  for  where 
thou  seemest  to  be  drawing  only  earthly  water 
thou  mayst  be  partaking  all  the  time  of  those 
living  springs  whereof  they  that  taste  shall 
never  thirst  again. 


MOMENTA  ON  THE  MOUNT.  75 

XXXII. 

THE  GLORY  OF  MORNING. 

"  And  in  the  vwrning,  then  ye  shall  see  the  glory  of  the 
Lord" — ExoD.  xvi.  7. 

It  is  in  tlie  morning  of  life,  0  Lord,  that  I 
see  Thy  glory.  In  the  midday  I  see  Thy 
helpfulness;  Thou  art  then  to  me  the  shadow 
of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land,  a  refuge 
from  the  burden  and  the  heat.  In  the  evening 
I  see  Tliy  faithfulness ;  I  behold  the  retro- 
spect of  all  that  thou  hast  done,  and  lo,  it 
is  all  very  good.  But  the  morning  is  the 
season  of  my  implicit  trust,  perfectly  implicit 
because  not  yet  founded  on  experience.  I 
trust  Thee  at  midday  because  I  feel  Thy  help  ; 
I  trust  thee  at  even  because  I  trace  Thy  plan, 
but  I  trust  Thee  at  morning  without  any 
reason  save  the  morning's  glow  in  my  heart. 
I  trust  Thee  as  the  lark  trusts  the  morniuo-  air 
into  which  it  soars  and  through  which  it  sings. 
I  trust  Thee  by  an  instinct  of  my  being.  I 
trust   Thee  without   experience,    before    trial, 


76  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

irrespective  of  argiimeiit,  in  defiance  of  diffi- 
culty ;  there  is  no  vision  but  the  brightness 
of  Thy  face. 

My  God,  give  me  back  my  youth;  I  can 
regain  it  in  Thee.  Let  the  shadows  of  my  life 
be  rekindled  into  morning's  glow,  let  my  heart 
be  lit  with  Thine  eternal  youth.  Thou  hast 
promised  us  eternal  life,  and  what  is  that?  Not 
merely  life  for  ever,  but  life  for  ever  young. 
Thine  eternal  life  can  make  me  a  child  again, 
a  child  without  childishness.  0  Thou,  on  whose 
bloom  time  breathes  not,  who  art  the  same 
yesterday,  and  to-day,  and  for  ever,  bathe  me 
in  those  fountains  of  the  morning  whence 
Thou  hast  the  dew  of  Thy  youth.  Bathe  me 
in  the  ocean  of  that  love  in  which  there  is  no 
variableness  nor  the  least  shadow  of  turning, 
that  the  pulses  of  this  heart  may  be  renewed. 
Then  shall  I  have  the  bright  and  morning 
star,  and  the  dayspring  from  on  high  shall  rise 
within  me.  Then  shall  creation  break  forth 
into  gladness,  as  in  the  day  when  the  morning 
stars  sanof  too-ether,  and  all  the  sons  of  God 
shouted  for  joy ;  I  shall  see  the  glory  of  life 
when  Thy  morning  is  in  my  soul. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  J7 

XXXIIl. 

THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST. 

"  Father,  I  iv ill  that  thry  also  zvhom  Thoii  hast giveji  me  be 
with  me  where  I  am  ;  that  they  may  behold  my  glory, 
which  27iou  hast  given  me." — John  xvii.  24. 

"Where  I  am."  Strange  place  that  in  which 
to  behold  His  glory  !  We  coukl  have  under- 
stood Him  if  He  had  said,  "  I  will  that  these 
whom  Thou  hast  given  me  be  with  me  where 
I  ims — in  the  glory  which  I  had  with  Thee 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world."  We 
could  have  understood  Him  if  He  had  said,  "  I 
will  that  these  whom  Thou  hast  given  me  be 
with  me  where  I  shall  be,  when  Thou  shalt 
glorify  me  again  with  Thine  own  self."  But 
when  He  says,  "  be  with  me  where  I  am,  that 
they  may  behold  my  glory,"  we  are  startled. 
What  glory  had  He  now^  and  here  ?  Had  He 
not  just  come  to  that  hour  which  men  called 
the  hour  of  His  humiliation  ?  was  He  not  on 
the  very  borders  of  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death  1    Surely  it  was  the  last  spot  where  He 


78  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

should  have  wislied  His  disciples  to  behold 
His  glory.  We  should  have  expected  Him  to 
have  pointed  them  on  to  a  time  when  this 
shame  would  be  compensated  by  the  glory  to 
come ;  instead  of  that  He  says  that  the  glory 
has  already  come,  and  that  He  only  wishes 
they  were  near  enough  to  see  it.  He  says, 
"Father,  I  wish  that  these  whom  Thou  hast 
given  me,  these  who  think  this  the  hour  of  my 
humiliation,  could  see  it  as  it  really  is — the 
hour  of  my  triumph  ;  I  wish  they  could  get  so 
close  to  my  heart  as  to  behold  this  hour  in  the 
lisht  that  I  behold  it — tlie  lio-ht  of  a  oiorious 
crown  laid  on  the  head  of  my  humanity  ;  then 
would  their  sorrow  be  turned  into  joy." 

My  soul,  marvel  not  at  this  exaltation  in 
humiliation  ;  Christ's  human  glory  was  His 
power  to  bear.  When  He  said,  "Father,  the 
hour  is  come ;  glorify  Thy  Son,  that  Thy  Son 
may  glorify  Thee,"  He  asked  not  salvation 
from  His  hour,  but  strength  in  His  hour.  He 
asked  that  He  might  be  able  to  take  the  cup 
with  a  hand  tLat  did  not  tremble,  to  say  with 
a  voice  that  did  not  falter,  "Not  as  I  will,  but 
as  Thou  wilt."     Canst  thou  be  with  Him  where 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  79 

He  then  was  and  belioM  His  glory  ?  Canst 
thou  see  the  conquest  in  His  stooping,  the 
kinghood  in  His  serving,  the  greatness  in  His 
humility,  the  crown  in  His  cross  ?  Canst  thou 
bow  down  before  tlie  majesty  of  that  rod  and 
staff  which  comforted  Him  in  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  ?  Canst  thou  adore  the  omnipotence 
of  that  strength  which  could  bear  the  burden 
of  a  world  without  protest,  could  bear  the  sins 
of  a  world  without  losing  His  love  for  an  hour  1 
Then  thou  hast  reached  the  privilege  which 
thy  Lord  desired  for  thee,  for  thou  hast  seen 
in  kindred  sympathy  with  Him  that  His  day 
of  death  was  His  day  of  glory. 


XXXIV. 

THE  SPIRITUAL  YEAR. 

"  Bringeth  forth  his  fniii  in  his  seasoti.''^ — Ps.  i.  3. 

There  are  four  seasons  in  thy  spiritual  year 
— the  winter  of  desolation ;  the  buds  of  spring, 
which  tell  of  hope;  the  warmth  of  summer, 
Avhich  bespeaks  the  fulness  of  the  heart ;  and 
the  ingathering  of  autumn,  which  is  the  time 


8o-  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

fur  life's  practical  fruits.  Eacli  season  has  its 
fruit,  and  the  fruit  is  in  its  turn  golden.  Do 
not  seek  to  change  the  order  of  God's  spiritual 
year,  do  not  seek  to  put  the  fruits  of  one  season 
into  the  Lip  of  another.  Thou  must  not  expect 
the  buds  of  spring  from  the  desolation  of  win- 
ter, for  desolation  is  the  fruit  of  winter ;  thou, 
like  Nicodemus,  must  begin  thy  journey  in  the 
sense  of  nioht — nioht  without  a  star.  TIjou 
must  not  expect  the  warmth  of  summer  from 
the  buds  of  spring,  for  the  fruit  of  spring  is 
not  fruition  but  hope ;  thou,  like  Peter,  must 
be  content  for  a  time  to  live  on  aspiration 
alone.  Thou  must  not  expect  the  practical 
inoatherinsc  of  autumn  from  the  w^armth  of 
summer,  for  the  fruit  of  summer  is  not  action 
but  emotion  ;  thou,  like  John,  must  be  content 
to  lie  on  the  Master's  bosom  until  thy  time  to 
work  for  Him  shall  come. 

0  Thou  that  hast  revealed  the  order  of 
Thine  acceptable  year,  reveal  in  my  experience 
the  stages  of  that  year.  Help  me  to  gather 
the  fruits  of  each  season  as  good  and  perfect 
gifts  from  Thee.  AVhen  I  feel  the  sense  of 
night,  let  me  accept  it  as  the  token  that,  like 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  8l 

Nicodemiis,  1  am  coming  to  'J'1i<m\  When  I 
feel  tlie  sense  of  1](^[)C,  let  me  accept  it  as  the 
sign  that,  like  Peter,  I  am  called  by  Thee. 
When  I  feel  the  sense  of  wai-mth,  let  me  accept 
it  as  the  evidence  that,  like  John,  I  rest  on 
Thee.  When  I  feel  the  sense  of  power  and  am 
inspired  to  gather  in  the  fruits,  let  me  accept 
it  as  the  pledge  that  I  am  bidden,  like  Paul,  to 
work  for  Thee.  So  shall  my  year  be  rounded, 
hallowed,  perfected.  So  shall  my  life  be  girt 
about  with  Thee.  The  snows  of  its  winter 
shall  be  sanctified,  the  buds  of  its  spring  shall 
be  fostered,  the  foliage  of  its  summer  shall  be 
blest,  the  first-fruits  of  its  autumn  shall  be 
hailed  with  joy  ;  they  shall  proclaim  that  witli- 
in  my  soul  the  year  of  the  Lord  has  come. 


XXXV. 

THE  LIVING  WAY. 
*'  By  a  new  and  living  way." — Heb.  x.  20. 

It  was  a  new  way  because  it  was  a  living  way. 
Men  had  hitherto  been  seeking  in  their  reli- 


82  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

gion  only  a  dying  way.  They  Lad  tliouglit 
that  Divine  worship  was  something  which  was 
good  for  helping  human  souls  to  cross  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  ;  they  had  never  thoughb 
of  it  as  mainly  useful  in  helping  human  souls 
to  support  the  shadows  of  life.  But  when 
He  came  He  consecrated  a  new  road  to  God. 
He  told  me  that  I  need  not  wait  till  the  last 
hour  in  order  to  find  eternity,  that  I  might 
find  it  now.  He  told  me  that  God's  presence 
could  be  reached  without  dying,  that  the 
grandest  death  of  the  spirit  \Yas  the  life  of 
love,  that  the  most  reasonable  service  for  a 
man  was  to  present  his  body  a  living  sacrifice, 
holy,  acceptable  unto  God. 

My  Father,  shall  I  ofi'er  Thee  only  my  last 
hours?  Teach  me  Thy  living  way.  Teach  me 
the  life  of  Him  who  offered  up  His  soul  from 
dawn  to  dark  unceasingly,  who  poured  out 
on  life's  altar  His  childhood,  His  youth,  His 
manhood,  one  by  one ;  who  gave  Thee  in  turn 
His  Bethlehem,  His  Nazareth,  His  Calvary. 
Help  me  to  climb  with  Him  the  living  ^Yay. 
Help  me  through  His  Spirit  to  yield  thee  my 
spirit.       Let  mc   not   wait   to  yield   it   till   a 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  83 

tlyiiig  Lour.  Give  me  the  power  of  death  in 
the  midst  of  life,  the  surrender  of  the  will 
amid  the  haunts  of  men.  In  the  scenes  of 
busy  labour,  in  the  paths  of  anxious  toil,  in 
the  struggles  for  daily  bread,  in  the  hours  of 
silent  trouble,  in  sorrow  and  in  joy,  in  sick- 
ness and  in  health,  in  poverty  and  in  abund- 
ance, help  me  to  yield  my  soul  to  Thee  and 
say,  "Father,  into  Thy  hands  I  commend  my 
spirit ;  "  then  shall  my  life  on  earth  be  the  way 
to  heaven. 


XXXVI. 

THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  DIVINE  LIFE. 

"  J^or  therein  is  the  righteousness  of  God  revealed  from 
faith  to  faith.'' — Rom.  i.  17. 

Feom  faith  to  faith  !  so  runs  the  course  of  the 
Gospel  life.  Therein  is  revealed  the  earthly 
progress  of  a  divinely-human  soul.  We  see 
Him  rising  from  peak  to  peak  in  the  ascent  of 
the  mount  of  God,  climbing  the  spheres  of 
earth  from  faith  to  faith.  First  there  is  faith 
ill  the  home  life,  content  to  be  in  subjection, 


84  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

and  waitiDor  its  time.  Next  tbere  is  faith  on 
the  banks  of  Jordan,  dedicating  itself  to  a 
Father's  will.  Then  comes  faith  in  the  wilder- 
ness— faith  that  can  prove  in  temptation  the 
strength  of  its  own  vow.  By  and  by  tliere 
comes  a  bigher  test  still — faith  proved  in 
sorrow,  faith  nnder  that  Gethsemane  shadow 
which  hid  the  very  face  of  God.  Lastly,  there 
is  faith  in  death — faith  strong  in  the  utmost 
weakness,  crying  Avith  a  loud  voice,  "  It  is 
finished  !  " 

0  Son  of  Man,  Son  of  God,  who  hast  been 
content  to  rise  from  the  valley  of  my  child- 
hood, let  me  ascend  on  steps  of  Thee.  Let  me 
rise  through  the  stages  of  Thy  life  from  faith 
to  faith.  Give  me  the  faith  that  can  wait  in 
obscurity  amid  the  trivial  duties  of  the  home 
life.  Give  me  the  faith  that  can  dedicate 
itself  amid  tbe  vision  of  an  opened  heaven. 
Give  me  the  faith  that  can  stand  on  the 
mount  of  temptation  and  see  tbe  kingdoms  of 
tbe  world  and  the  glory  of  them,  and  say, 
"Thee  only  shall  I  serve."  Give  me  the  faith 
that  can  enter  within  tbe  shadow^s  of  Geth- 
semane, and   believe  in   tbat    Father's  smile 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  85 

wliich  it  can  no  longer  see.  Give  me  the  faith 
that  can  enter  that  deeper  darkness  still — the 
portals  of  the  grave,  and  in  that  hour  when 
flesh  and  heart  faint  and  fail  can  sinij  with  a 
loud  voice,  "  0  death  !  where  is  thy  sting  ? 
0  grave  !  where  is  thy  victory  ?  " 


XXXVII. 

LOVE  CONSTRAINING. 

"  T/ie  love  of  Christ  co7istraineth  usT — 2  Cor.  v.  14. 

Strange  gift  this  to  come  from  love — con- 
straint, narrowing,  imprisonment.  I  can 
understand  love  enlarging,  love  liberating, 
love  bringing  out  into  the  boundless  expanse 
and  crowning  with  the  mercies  of  freedom ;  but 
love  constraining! — it  is  a  startling,  a  repel- 
ling thought.  I  have  asked  myself  a  thousand 
times  how  the  constraints  of  this  world  are 
to  be  explained  consistently  with  the  love  of 
God.  I  have  tried  a  hundred  solutions  of  the 
problem  how  Divine  love  can  co-exist  with  so 
many  human  limitations,  but  no  solution  of 


86  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

mine  ever  reached  the  boldness  of  this.  I  am 
here  told  that  there  is  no  need  of  reconciliation 
at  all,  that  there  is  nothing  to  be  reconciled, 
that  between  love  and  constraint  there  is  no 
ground  of  controversy.  I  am  told  that  con- 
straint is  itself  the  gift  of  love, — God's  first 
gift  to  my  soul.  I  am  told  to  see  a  friend 
in  that  which  I  held  to  be  an  enemy,  to  claim 
as  an  ally  the  imagined  foe  of  my  human 
happiness.  Love  comes  to  me  with  a  bitter 
cup  in  her  hand  and  says,  "  This  cup  is  my 
gift  to  thee :  drink  thou  and  be  refresher]." 

My  soul,  marvel  not  that  the  love  of  God 
should  first  manifest  itself  in  thy  pain.  Con- 
straint is  the  first  gift  of  all  love — even  of 
human  fatherhood.  Was  not  thine  earthly 
childhood  developed  by  sacrifice,  by  obedi- 
ence to  a  law  whose  meaning  thou  couldst  not 
see  ?  Did  not  thine  early  intelligence  expand 
through  a  path  of  tears,  expand  through  the 
crushing  of  thine  individual  will  and  the 
constraint  of  thine  impetuous  passions  ?  Thy 
path  of  tears  was  an  unconscious  rainbow  ;  it 
led  thy  soul  aloft  on  an  arch  of  triumpl].  It 
was  only  from  the  summit   of  the  arch   that 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  S7 

thou  couldst  tell  how  really  glorious  was  thy 
path  of  tears.  So  shall  it  be  with  thy  larger 
retrospect.  When  from  the  summit  of  a  com- 
pleted experience  thou  shalt  look  back,  thou 
shalt  marvel  at  the  glory  of  the  way.  The  most 
glorious  spots  of  that  way  shall  just  be  the 
sj)ots  that,  when  thou  wert  passing  by,  appeared 
to  have  no  glory.  The  places  which  shall  be 
most  filled  with  light  shall  be  thy  dark  places 
— the  scenes  that  seemed  to  thee  thy  blots  on 
the  page  of  life.  Thou  shalt  see  that  in  these 
were  thy  true  gifts  of  fortune.  Thou  shalt 
learn  that  the  days  called  adverse  were  the 
making  of  thee,  that  the  seasons  of  thy  spiri- 
tual growth  were  the  hours  of  thy  night. 
And  when  thou  countest  up  the  gifts  of  Divine 
love,  thou  shalt  class  amono;st  the  bris^litest  of 
them  all  those  that,  in  the  course  of  the 
journey,  came  to  thee  as  denials  of  thy  prayer; 
thou  shalt  look  upon  the  crosses  of  thy  life  and 
say,  "  The  love  of  Christ  constrained  me." 


88  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT, 

XXXVIII. 

HUMAN  INSTRUMENTALITY. 

"  And  He  took  the  seven  loaves  and  the  fishes,  and  gave 
thanks,  and  brake  them,  and  gave  to  His  disciples, 
and  the  disciples  to  the  multitude." — Matt.  xv.  36. 

And  so  tliere  are  secondary  causes  in  tlie 
spiritual  as  well  as  in  the  natural  world. 
Christ  was  here  breaking  the  bread  to  the 
multitude,  but  He  does  not  give  it  to  the 
multitude  directly ;  He  gives  it  through  a 
medium.  He  puts  it  into  the  hands  of  the 
disciples  and  tells  them  to  give  it ;  the  Divine 
blessing  comes  through  a  secular  clianuel.  So 
is  it  ever  with  the  providence  of  God.  He 
sends  the  bread  to  feed  my  soul,  but  He  sends 
it  through  earthly  ministers,  sometimes  in 
earthen  vessels.  He  sends  it  through  the 
laws  which  I  call  nature's  laws,  through  the 
changes  which  I  call  life's  changes,  through 
the  troubles  which  I  call  the  troubles  of 
humanity.  He  sends  it  by  the  most  common- 
place conveyances,  by  the  most  trivial  incidents. 


MOMENTS  UN  THE  MOUNT.  89 

by  the  most  unlikely  contingencies ;  I  am 
every  day,  every  hour,  every  moment  in  the 
presence  of  the  messengers  of  God.  Do  I 
marvel  that  the  ravens  fed  Elijah  in  the 
wilderness  ?  I  am  every  instant  fed  by 
emissaries  as  untoward  as  these.  All  the 
influences  of  life,  however  unpleasing,  are  in 
some  sense  ministering  to  me ;  even  the  lives 
that  come  into  conflict  with  mine  are  uncon- 
sciously ministering  to  mine.  The  bread  from 
the  hands  of  my  God  reaches  me  through  the 
myriad  hands  of  men. 

Lord,  make  me  one  of  Thy  secondary  causes. 
I  must  be  so  with  or  without  my  will,  for  all 
things  must  bend  to  Thy  Divine  purpose. 
But  it  is  not  without  my  will  that  I  desire  to 
serve  Thee.  I  would  not  be  a  mere  mechanical 
agent  in  Thy  universe,  like  the  sun  by  day  or 
the  moon  and  stars  by  night ;  I  would  serve 
Thee  voluntarily,  freely,  designedly.  I  would 
be  the  conscious  distributer  of  Thy  bread  to 
the  famished  crowd,  the  conscious  minister  of 
Thy  strength  to  the  fainting  multitude.  I 
would  take  into  my  hands  the  bread  which 
Thou  hast  broken,  and  in  my  turn  I  would 


90  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

break  it  anew.  I  woulJ  receive  from  Thee 
Thine  own  spirit  of  sacrifice — Thy  life  broken 
by  love.  I  wonld  receive  from  Thee  Thine 
own  human  burden,  the  burden  of  sympathy 
with  the  wants  and  woes  of  man.  I  would 
receive  from  Thee  Thy  best,  Thy  divinest  gift 
— the  power  and  the  will  to  give.  Help  me 
to  give  to  others  what  Thou  hast  given  to  me. 
Thou  hast  given  me  Thyself.  That  which 
Thou  hast  broken  for  me  is  more  than  the 
bread ;  it  is  Thine  own  spirit.  Give  me  that 
spirit  of  Thine  to  break  for  my  brother  man. 
Help  me  to  lose  myself  for  him,  to  forget  my- 
self in  him,  to  hide  myself  in  him.  Let  me 
be  wounded  with  his  wounds,  afflicted  with 
his  stripes,  pained  with  his  sorrows,  humi- 
liated with  his  humiliation.  Let  me  be  so 
identified  with  him  that  there  shall  be  one 
common  cross  between  us,  one  common  load 
to  bear ;  then  shall  I  break  for  him  the  bread 
Thou  hast  broken  for  me. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  91 

XXXIX. 

THE  CHOICE  OF  MANHOOD. 

^'^  By  faith  Moses,  when  he  was  come  to  years,  refused  to  he 
called  the  son  of  Pharaoh's  daughter ;  esteeming  the 
reproach  of  Christ  greater  riches  than  the  treasures  in 
Egypt.'' — Heb.  xi.  24,  26. 

The  reproach  of  Christ !  how  could  that  be 
a  motive  to  Moses  ?  Did  Moses  know  any- 
thing about  Christ  ?  Perhaj^s  not,  but  he 
was  bearing  His  reproach.  He  was  passiuo- 
through  in  anticipation  that  very  choice  of 
alternatives  whose  decision  constituted  the 
reproach  of  his  Lord.  What  was  the  reproach 
of  Christ  %  It  was  His  preference  of  the 
internal  to  the  external.  He  stood  on  the 
mount  of  temptation,  and  into  each  hand 
was  put  a  separate  cup — into  the  one  a  cup 
of  worldly  glory,  into  the  other  a  cup  of 
spiritual  sacrifice.  He  chose  the  latter,  and 
that  was  His  reproach  ;  He  preferred  the  service 
of  His  Father  to  the  kingdoms  of  the  world 
and  the  glory  of  them.  Even  so  did  Moses  by 
the  power  of  the  selfsame  spirit;  he  refused 


52  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

to  be  called  the  son  of  Pharaoh's  daiio-liter,  lie 
chose  rather  to  go  down  into  the  valleys  to 
suffer  affliction  with  the  people  of  God.  Un- 
consciously to  himself  he  was  in  communion 
with  the  life  divinely  human,  in  sympathy 
with  the  spirit  of  Him  who  preferred  the  cross 
to  the  visible  crown ;  he  Was  bearing  the  re- 
proach of  Jesus. 

My  soul,  there  is  a  time  when  thou  too  art 
called  to  stand  upon  the  mountain's  brow. 
There  is  a  time  when  to  thee,  as  to  Moses,  there 
comes  a  choice  of  alternatives,  when  the  trea- 
sures of  Egypt  lie  on  the  one  hand  and  the 
life  of  sacrifice  besets  thee  on  the  other.  It  is 
the  crisis-hour  of  all  thy  life — the  hour  in 
which  thou  hast  finished  the  ascending  course 
of  youth,  and  hast  reached  at  its  summit  the 
tableland  of  manhood.  What  shall  that  man- 
hood be  ?  on  thy  decision  of  this  choice  the 
answer  must  depend.  Shall  it  be  a  manhood 
of  visible  glitter  and  empty  show,  of  outward 
pomp  and  selfish  ambition,  of  Judaic  pride 
and  Messianic  majesty  ?  or  shall  it  be  a  man- 
hood of  human  care  and  individual  sympathy, 
of  heartfelt  responsibility  and  sacrificial  love, 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  93 

of  earnest  devotion  and  Christ-like  stooping? 
This  is  the  latest  choice  of  thy  youth,  0  my 
soul.  Son  of  Man,  help  me  to  choose  with 
Thee.  Help  me  to  refuse  the  gold  and  take 
the  cross.  Help  me  to  go  down  with  Thee 
into  the  valley  of  humiliation.  Help  me  to 
join  the  band  of  human  sufferers  who  have 
never  seen  the  glory  of  the  mountain's  brow. 
Let  the  sense  of  a  common  reproach  unite  my 
heart  to  Thine ;  so  shall  my  cross  be  greater 
riches  than  all  the  treasures  of  Egypt. 


XL. 

AN  UNSELFISH  SEEKING  FOR  REWARD. 

"  For  he  had  respect  unto  the  nronipcnse  of  the  reward." — 
Heb.  xi.  26. 

Stuange  conclusion  this  wdth  which  to  wind 
up  the  eulogium  of  a  human  character.  We 
have  just  been  told  how  unselfish  has  been  the 
life  of  Moses,  how  he  has  preferred  the  reproach 
of  Christ  to  the  treasures  in  Egypt.  And  now 
we  seem  to  be  told  that  it  was  but  selfishness 
after  all,  that  all  the  time  of  his  sacrifice  he 


94  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

had  a  motive  beyond  the  sacrifice,  that  he  was 
seeking  the  reward  of  sacrifice.  Yes,  but  what 
is  the  reward  of  sacrifice  ?  It  is  the  power  to 
do  good  without  it.  All  virtue  is  at  first  pain- 
ful, but  if  we  persevere  in  the  pain  it  shall  at 
last  vanish  away,  and  leave  naught  but  the 
virtue  behind.  The  reward  of  sacrifice  is  the 
joy  of  sacrifice ;  it  is  the  power  to  say,  I  once 
struggled  to  be  unselfish,  but  it  would  now  be 
a  struggle  to  be  aught  beside.  It  is  the  joy  of 
getting  that  as  my  nature  which  I  once  had 
for  my  task,  of  being  able  to  do  by  instinct 
what  I  once  performed  by  rule.  The  recom- 
pense of  the  reward  which  Moses  sought  was 
to  be  made  perfectly  unselfish ;  it  was  the 
strength  to  give  more  abundantly,  to  give 
without  pain,  Avithout  struggle,  without  re- 
luctance, without  one  longing  memory  of  the 
treasures  left  behind.  And  verily  that  recom- 
pense was  his.  Meekness  became  to  him  a 
second  nature.  The  impetuous  youth  that 
slew  the  Egyptian  subsided  into  the  man  that 
was  content  to  he  slain,  to  die  daily  for  the 
brotherhood  of  human  souls,  to  lose  even  his 
promised  land  that  Joshua  might  enter  in. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  95 

lliou,  too,  niavst  have  this  recompense.  If 
tliou  wilt  accept  the  strait  gate  and  the  narrow 
way  in  its  straitness  and  in  its  narrowness, 
it  shall  ere  long  become  to  thee  a  way  of 
pleasantness  and  a  path  of  peace.  Thou  shalt 
be  loosed  from  the  bonds  that  fetter  thine 
own  deeds,  loosed  not  from  without  but  from 
within.  Thy  cross  shall  not  be  lifted,  but  it 
shall  be  transformed  into  a  crown  ;  thy  tasks 
shall  not  be  remitted,  but  they  shall  be  trans- 
figured into  joys.  Thy  law  shall  become  thy 
love,  thy  duty  shall  become  thy  delight,  thy 
service  shall  become  thy  freedom.  The  steep 
of  thy  Calvary  shall  be  crowned  by  the  heights 
of  Olivet,  and  without  turning  from  thy  path 
thou  shalt  enter  into  thy  glory.  When  thou 
hast  reached  the  joy  of  sacrifice  thou  hast 
received  the  recompense  of  the  reward. 


96  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

XLI. 

THE  VOICE  IN  THE  TABERNACLE. 

"  And  when  Moses  was  gone  into  the  tabernacle  of  the 
congregation  to  speak  with  Him,  then  he  heard  the 
voice  of  one  speaking  utito  him  from  off  the  mercy- 
seat." — Num.  vii.  89. 

When  Moses  was  gone  into  tlie  tabernacle, 
then  lie  heard  the  voice.  It  is  not  said  that 
the  voice  then  began  to  speak  ;  rather  the 
contrary  is  implied.  The  voice  would  seem  to 
have  been  speaking  all  along,  but  it  was  only 
now  that  Moses  heard  it.  Why  did  he  hear 
it  now  ?  It  was  because  now  for  the  first 
time  he  had  put  himself  in  the  attitude  of 
hearing.  It  was  when  he  entered  into  the 
tabernacle,  it  was  when  he  began  himself  to 
speak  with  God,  that  there  woke  within  him 
the  conviction  that  God  had  all  the  time  been 
speaking  with  him. 

My  soul,  it  must  be  the  same  with  thee. 
Often  art  thou  crying  in  the  silence  of  the 
night  that  no  Divine  voice  has  visited  thee. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  97 

Nay,  but  hast  thou  only  listened  for  it  with  the 
ear  of  sense  ?  If  so,  it  is  no  marvel  that  thou 
hast  missed  its  music.  The  voice  of  God 
cannot  be  heard  by  the  ear  of  sense  ;  its  tones 
make  no  impression  on  the  surrounding  air, 
they  stir  not  the  waves  of  the  earthly  atmo- 
sphere. Its  accents  are  too  still  and  small  to 
be  caught  by  the  natural  ear  ;  they  are  speak- 
ing incessantly,  but  they  are  drowned  by 
the  thunder,  the  earthquake,  and  the  fire.  If 
thou  wouldst  hear  them  thou  must  enter  the 
inner  tabernacle,  thou  must  open  the  inner 
ear.  Hast  thou  not  read  how  in  the  days  of 
old  the  miracle  was  only  wrought  to  faith  ? 
Why  was  the  miracle  only  wrought  to  faith  ? 
Not  because  God  is  narrow,  but  because  truth 
is  broad.  The  eye  cannot  see  music,  the  ear 
cannot  hear  colours  ;  neither  can  the  natural 
receive  the  spiritual.  Faith  is  the  vision  of 
the  soul,  the  audience-chamber  of  the  soul. 
Within  its  holy  temple  there  are  voices  in- 
numerable— interpreters  of  all  other  voices. 
Here  music  waits  for  thee,  here  sunbeams 
watch  for  thee,  here  the  mystery  of  life  unveils 
herself  to   be  ready  for  thy  coming.     When 


G 


98  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

thou  slialt  enter  into  tlie  secr'et  of  God's 
pavilion  to  speak  with  Him,  there  shall  break 
upon  thy  heart  the  wondrous  revelation  that 
all  thy  life  He  has  been  speaking  with  thee. 


XLII. 

TARRYING  UNDER  THE  CLOUD. 

"  yind  lulien  the  cloud  tarried  long  tipon  the  tabernacle 
mafiy  days,  then  the  children  of  Is?-ael  kept  the  charge 
of  the  Lord,  and  Journeyed  not." — Num.  ix.  19. 

It  would  be  well  for  us  if  we  could  repeat  this 
experience.  Our  practice  is  to  journey  after 
the  cloud  has  come.  We  are  proud  of  our 
intellectual  clouds  ;  wo,  like  to  travel  in.  the 
strength  of  them,  to  let  men  see  that  we  are 
influenced  by  them.  We  make  parade  of  our 
doubt  as  if  doubt  were  the  symbol  of  plenty ; 
we  forget  that  it  is  the  sio-n  of  want.  Is  there 
not  a  better,  a  more  excellent  w^ay  ?  To  thee, 
as  to  all  men,  there  must  come  moments  of 
darkness,  moments  when,  like  the  Psalmist, 
thou  shalt  cry,  "  Verily  Thou  art  a  God  that 
hidest  Thyself."     But  it  is  not  well  for  thee 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  99 

to  jour ncTj  in  the  darkness.  It  is  not  well  for 
thee  to  go  forth  proclaiming  to  all  the  world 
that  the  shadows  of  an  intellectual  iiio-ht  have 
fallen  upon  thee,  that  truths  once  bright  have 
become  dim,  that  hopes  once  dear  have  be- 
come clouded.  To-morrow  the  shades  may 
all  have  passed  away ;  morning  may  have 
come  back  to  thy  heart,  and  thy  first  faith 
may  have  risen  in  resurrection  from  the 
depths  of  night.  And  yet  thy  restoration 
may  not  restore  the  harm  thou  hast  wrought 
on  thy  journey.  What  if  thou  hast  affected 
others  with  thy  clouds  ?  what  if  thou  hast  im- 
pressed thy  fellow-men  with  the  gloom  of 
thine  own  night?  Their  day  may  not  come 
back  when  thy  night  shall  vanish.  Beware, 
therefore,  0  my  soul,  what  thou  shalt  do 
under  thy  cloud.  Beware  that  thou  dost 
not  journey  while  the  shadow  remains  upon 
thee.  Beware  that  thou  dost  not  pro- 
pagate in  the  hearts  of  others  that  which 
may  only  be  transient  in  thine  own.  Be  it 
thine  to  rest  in  secret  while  the  cloud  is  hanof- 
ing  over  thee,  be  it  thine  to  tarry  within  while 
the   shadow  of  doubt  is  overhead.      One  day 


lOO  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

thou  slialt  bless  God  that  thou  didst  not 
journey,  one  day  thou  shalt  rejoice  that  the 
cloud  was  kept  secret  in  the  depths  of  thy 
heart.  For  the  cloud  shall  not  be  eternal. 
The  sun  of  early  hope  shall  rise,  and  the  buds 
of  early  spring  shall  open,  and  the  time  for 
the  singing  of  birds  shall  come,  and  then  thou 
shalt  be  glad  with  an  exceeding  great  joy. 
Thou  shalt  be  o:lad  that  thou  hast  not  revealed 
thy  darkness,  that  thou  hast  not  allowed  the 
impressions  of  one  misty  hour  to  shade  the 
eyes  and  disturb  the  thoughts  of  other  men. 
When  the  cloud  tarries  upon  thy  tabernacle, 
keep  the  charge  of  the  Lord  and  journey  not. 


XLIII. 

THE  VALUE  OF  PAIN. 

*^  Yet  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  bruise  Him  ;  .  .  .  7c>/ien  TJioii 
shalt  make  His  soul  an  offerijig  for  si/i,  He  shall  see 
His  seed,  He  shall  prolong  His  days,  a  fid  the  pleasure 
of  the  Lord  shall  prosper  in  His  hand." — Isa.  liii.  lo. 

"  It  pleased  the  Lord  to  bruise  Him ! "    Strange 
pleasure  this  surely  to  dwell  in  the  heart  of  the 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  loi 

All-Beiieficent.  Is  it  not  the  nature  of  the 
heavenly  Father  to  give  joy  ?  Does  He  not 
deli'sht  rather  in  the  hing-hter  than  in  the  tears 
of  men  ?  Why  then  should  He  find  pleasure  in 
the  bruises  of  that  heart  in  which  there  was  no 
violence  and  no  guile.  Nay,  but  look  deeper. 
The  prophet  tells  us  that  the  bruises  of  the 
Servant  of  God  were  the  source  of  His  pros- 
perity :  "  When  Thou  shalt  make  His  soul  an 
offering,  He  shall  prolong  His  days."  Wher- 
ever the  soul  is  offered,  wherever  the  will  is 
given,  there  is  a  fresh  access  of  life.  Did  not 
He  find  it  so  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane  ? 
When  did  the  anojels  come  to  Him  with  that 
strength  which  prolonged  His  days  ?  Was  it 
not  when  He  took  the  Father's  cup  in  His 
hand  and  said,  "Not  as  I  will,  but  as  Thou 
wilt."  No  wonder  that  the  Father  was  pleased 
to  bruise  Him ;  the  bruising  of  His  soul  was 
the  surrender  of  His  will,  and  the  surrender  of 
His  will  was  resurrection  begun.  The  pressure 
of  the  flower  brought  out  its  perfume ;  the 
breaking  of  the  alabaster  box  diffused  its 
fras^rance  till  it  filled  all  the  house.  It  recom- 
pensed  the  Father  for  tlie  unloveliness  of  the 


I02  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

]»ast ;  it  made  atonement  for  the  sins  of  the 
world. 

Art  thou  chafiog  under  the  hand  of  thy 
God  ?  art  thou  murmurins:  that  He  should 
seem  to  look  on  complacently  while  thy  desire 
is  being  thwarted,  while  thy  will  is  being 
denied  ?  What  if  He  is  complacent  ?  what  if 
He  is  pleased  to  bruise  thee  ?  Thinkest  thou 
that  there  cannot  be  a  Divine  benevolence 
which  rejoices  in  thy  moment  of  pain  ?  Knovv- 
est  thou  not  that  there  is  a  pain  which  gives 
cause  for  rejoicing  ?  There  is  a  pain  which  is 
the  proof  of  convalescence,  the  sign  that  death 
is  not  yet.  There  is  a  pain  which  tells  that 
the  wound  has  not  mortified,  that  there  is  life 
left  in  the  mutilated  member.  There  is  a  pain 
which  is  symptomatic  of  purity,  which  grows 
with  the  progress  of  purity,  which  cannot  be 
felt  by  the  impure.  No  conscience  can  feel, 
the  wound  of  sin  but  the  tender  conscience, 
no  spirit  can  perceive  its  own  unrest  but  the 
regenerated  sj)irit.  Ought  not  the  sight  of 
such  pain  to  be  dear  to  thy  Father's  heart  ? 
must  not  thy  Father  strive  to  produce  such 
pain?     What  pleasure  to  Him  can  be  the  vision 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  103 

of  tliy  perfect  satisfaction  with  the  earth ; 
what  is  that  but  the  vision  that  thou  wert  not 
made  for  Him.  But  if  He  shall  see  thee 
unsatisfied  with  the  earth,  if  He  shall  make 
thee  unsatisfied  with  the  earth,  then,  indeed, 
it  is  meet  that  He  should  be  glad,  for,  by  the 
very  want  which  earth  cannot  fill,  He  knows 
assuredly  that  thou  art  made  for  Himself  alone. 
It  is  pleasing  to  thy  Father's  heart  to  see  the 
travail  of  thy  soul. 


XLTV. 

SPIRITUAL  RESURRECTION. 

"Son  o/man,  can  these  bones  live?" — Ezek  xxxvii.  3. 

There  are  four  degrees  of  wonderfulness  in  the 
Divine  miracle  of  raising  the  dead.  Some  are 
like  the  daughter  of  Jairus ;  corruption  has 
but  begun  when  the  arresting  hand  comes,  and 
they  revive.  Some  are  like  the  youth  of 
Nain  ;  they  are  already  on  the  road  to  burial 
when  the  mandate  meets  them,  "Arise." 
Some  are  like  Lazarus  of  Bethany ;  they  are 


I04  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

already  in  the  grave,  corruption  is  not  merely 
begun,  but  almost  perfected,  when  the  summons 
is  heard,  "  Come  forth."  There  is  one  stage 
more  wonderful  still;  it  is  that  of  Ezekiel's 
vision.  There  we  seem  to  have  reached  the 
climax  of  impossibilities.  It  is  not  merely 
death  that  we  see,  it  is  not  merely  burial,  it  is 
not  merely  corruption  begun,  it  is  not  merely 
corruption  in  its  closing  stage  ;  it  is  complete 
disintegration,  it  is  the  last  result  of  decay. 
The  bones  are  already  scattered  in  the  valley, 
and  there  is  no  sign  remaining  that  they  once 
had  life.  Could  there  be  hope  even  for  these? 
The  prophet  was  doubtful,  but  He  with  whom 
he  spake  was  not.  There  is  more  charity  in 
the  heart  of  God  than  in  the  heart  of  man. 
Finite  love  always  despairs ;  Infinite  Love 
hopes  boundlessly,  unfathomably.  It  descends 
into  the  depths  to  seek  and  to  save.  It  goes 
down  to  the  valleys  in  search  of  the  earth's 
rejected  ones.  It  inquires  for  the  lepers,  the 
demoniacs,  the  Magdalenes  whom  the  world 
has  cast  out.  It  weeps  for  those  ruins  of 
Jerusalem  over  which  man  rejoices,  and  its  tears 
are  not  unprophetic  of  a  redemptive  hope. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  105 

My  soul,  never  lose  tliy  hope  in  the  soul. 
However  low  it  may  have  desceiidecl,  however 
Immiliating  may  be  its  valley,  keep  warm  for 
it  the  fire  of  thy  charity.  Though  it  be 
already  dead,  though  corruptiou  be  begun, 
though  corruption  be  completed,  though  the 
last  stage  of  disintegration  be  perfected,  hope 
for  it  still.  Let  thy  hope  be  the  measure  of 
thy  love ;  where  there  is  love  there  must  be 
hope.  It  is  not  when  thy  vision  is  blackest 
that  thy  love  is  strongest.  Art  thou  tempted 
to  despair  of  humanity  ?  Go  and  kindle  thy 
devotion  anew  at  the  heart  of  Him  who  has 
borue  its  sitis  and  carried  its  sorrows.  Go  and 
light  thy  torch  at  the  glow  of  His  life,  who 
believed  all  things  and  hoped  all  things  even 
whilst  He  endured  all  things.  Then  shalt 
thou  despair  no  more,  for  in  that  glass  of  love 
wherein  thou  shalt  behold  His  glory,  thou 
shalt  see  His  glory  to  be  a  ransomed  soul. 


lo6  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


XLV. 

RELIGIOUS  FEELING  AND  RELIGIOUS 
THOUGHT. 

"  One  thing  have  I  desired  of  the  Lord,  that  will  I  seek 
after ;  that  I  may  divell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  all 
the  days  of  my  life,  to  behold  the  beauty  of  the  Lord, 
and  to  inquire  i?i  His  temple." — Ps.  xxvii.  4. 

There  were  two  reasons  why  the  Psalmist 
desired  to  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord — he 
wanted  to  behold,  and  he  wanted  to  inquire. 
Beholding  and  inquiring,  the  vision  of  the 
beauty  and  the  study  of  the  truth,  make  up 
together  the  perfect  way.  AVithout  either  of 
these  our  religion  is  a  maimed  relio^ion.  To 
behold  the  beauty  without  inquiring  is  mere 
sentiment,  to  inquire  without  beholding  the 
beauty  is  mere  criticism;  perfect  faith  unites 
both.  Yet  there  is  an  order  in  their  union  ; 
the  beholding  of  the  beauty  comes  first.  I 
cannot  with  any  profit  begin  to  inquire  until 
I  have  begun  to  gaze  ;  I  cannot  understand  the 
reason  until  I  have  felt  the  power.  Often 
have  I  marked  these  words  of  the  Psalmist, 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  107 

"  0  .^cnd  out  Thy  light  and  Th-y  tmth  ;  let 
them  lead  me."  He  asks  for  the  light  before 
the  truth ;  he  desires  the  beauty  before  the 
knowledge.  So  have  I  ever  felt  that  it  must 
be  with  me.  I  would  not  pray  for  truth  until 
I  have  prayed  for  light ;  I  would  not  ask  to 
inquire  until  I  have  learned  to  see.  I  feel 
that  the  house  of  my  God  is  a  house  of 
mysteries.  It  has  recesses  which  I  cannot 
explore,  it  has  secrets  which  I  cannot  fathom ; 
but  if  I  am  allowed  to  gaze  on  its  beauty  I  can 
afford  to  wait,  if  I  am  suffered  to  feel  its 
splendour  I  can  defer  my  right  to  search  out 
its  treasures. 

0  Thou  who  art  fairer  than  the  children  of 
men,  suffer  me  before  all  things  to  feast  mine 
eyes  on  Thee.  I  may  not  be  able  any  more 
than  Nicodemus  to  assign  the  proof  of  Thy 
mission,  but  help  me,  unlike  Nicodemus,  to  see 
the  kingdom  of  God.  Clouds  and  darkness 
are  still  round  about  my  intellect,  and  my 
understanding  can  only  cry,  "  0  the  depth ; " 
but  if  Thou  shalt  open  tlie  eye  of  my  heart  I 
shall  be  independent  of  these.  If  Thou  shalt 
suffer  me  to  gaze  on  Thy  beauty,  I  shall  have 


lo8  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Thy  light  in  anticipation  of  Thy  truth,  and  in 
the  streno'th  of  that  lio-ht  I  shall  g-o  unto  thine 

o  o  o 

altar  with  exceeding  joy.  I  would  approach 
the  problems  of  life  with  no  other  torch  than 
thine  ;  be  Thou  Thine  own  interpreter,  in  Thy 
lio-ht  let  me  see  liuht.  I  shall  both  hear  Thee 
and  ask  Thee  questions  when  I  have  caught  a 
vision  of  Thyself;  when  I  have  beheld  Thy 
beauty  I  shall  inquire  in  Thy  tabernacle. 


XLVI. 

THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DIVINE  VISION. 

"  Blessed  art  thou,  Simon  Bar-jo7ia  :  for  flesh  and  blood 
hath  not  revealed  it  unto  thee,  but  my  Father  which  is 
in  heaven^ — Matt.  xvi.  1 7. 

The  Master  is  not  here  pronouncing  a  bless- 
ing on  Peter;  He  is  declaring  that  Peter  is 
already  blessed.  He  is  not  promisiug  him  a 
place  in  the  beatitudes  of  a  future  heaven  ;  He 
is  proclaiming  the  truth  that  he  has  reached 
even  now  the  heavenly  beatific  joy,  "  Blessed 
art  thou."  We  speak  of  the  dead  as  among  the 
blessed,  yet  the  living  as  well  as  the  dead  may 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  109 

reach  the  goal  of  blessedness.      Why  did  the 
Master   pronounce    Peter    blessed  ?      It    was 
because  he  had  reached  in  life  what  is  supposed 
to  be   the  boon  only    of  death — the   joy    of 
revelation.     Is  there  to  thee  any  blessedness 
equal  to  that,  anything  which  thou  wouldst 
choose  in  comparison  with  that  ?    Hast  thou 
too  not  felt  at  times  the  joy  of  a  revelation 
which  flesh  and  blood  could  never  irive,  the 
rapture  of  seeing  further  than  the  bodily  eye 
can  see,  of  hearing  further  than  the  bodily  ear 
can  hear  ?     When  thou  hast  stood  upon  the 
margin  of  the  shore  and  surveyed  far  and  wide 
the  expanse  of  waters,  and   when  there  has 
risen  within    thee   a  sense  of  the  boundless, 
the  infinite,  the  divine,  what   is   that  which 
has  made  thy  blessedness  ?     It  is  the  know- 
ledge that  something  has  been  revealed  to  thee 
which  flesh  and  blood  could  not  have  revealed. 
What  gave  thee  that  sense  of  the  boundless  ? 
Not  the  sea,  for  the  sea  was  itself  limited,  and 
the  finite  cannot  wake  the  infinite.     It  came 
from  no  material  source ;  flesh  and  blood  did 
not  reveal  it  unto  thee,  but  thy  Father  which 
is  in  heaven.     That  was  the  knowledge  which 


no  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

made  thee  blessed  in  beliolding  the  expanse  of 
waters — tlie  knowledoje  that  thou  wert  Larofer 
than  they.  Yea,  and  that  blessedness  should 
be  thine  always,  everywhere.  For,  indeed, 
thou  art  larger  than  all  materialisms,  0  my 
soul.  Flesh  and.  blood  could  never  have  re- 
revealed  to  thee  any  of  the  things  which  make 
thee  man.  Even  the  visible  form  of  the 
Christ  would  not  have  revealed  to  thee  His 
beauty  ;  if  thou  hast  seen  His  beauty,  it  is  by 
another  eye  than  sense.  If  thy  heart  has 
burned  as  He  talked  with  thee  by  the  way,  if 
thine  aspiration  has  soared  as  He  pointed  thee 
to  the  mount  of  God,  it  can  only  be  because 
thy  heart  is  already  one  with  His  heart,  be- 
cause thine  aspiration  is  already  harmonious 
with  His  holy  will.  Thou  couldst  not  have 
seen  Him  as  He  is  if  thou  hadst  not  been  like 
Him,  for  the  divine  alone  can  recognise  the 
divine.  The  mutual  recognition  is  the  proof 
of  a  kindred  spirit :  "  Blessed  art  thou." 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  ill 


XLVII. 

THE  IMMEDIATE  VISION  OF  GOD. 

"  If  there  be  a  prophet  among  yoti,  I  the  Lord  will  make 
myself  known  unto  hiin  in  a  vision,  and  7vill  speak 
unto  him  in  a  dream.  My  servant  Moses  is  not  so, 
who  is  faithful  in  all  mine  house.  With  him  will  I 
speak  mouth  to  mouth." — Num.  xii.  6-8. 

They  tell  us  that  in  the  old  days  men 
were  superstitious,  that  they  could  only  see 
God  in  visious  and  in  dreams.  But  in  the 
oldest  days  of  all  it  \Yas  not  so.  Here  is  a 
very  ancient  book  which  makes  the  visions 
and  the  dreams  the  marks  not  of  a  higher,  but 
of  a  lower  revelation.  We  are  apt  to  think 
that  the  most  privileged  men  of  the  Bible 
were  the  men  who  had  visions ;  here  the 
reverse  is  assumed.  It  is  taken  for  granted 
that  Moses  was  more  privileged  than  otliers 
just  because  he  had  no  visions.  The  ordinary 
prophet  saw  God  only  in  the  symbol ;  Moses 
was  rewarded  for  his  fidelity  by  seeing  no 
symbol,    beholding    no    vision,    receiving    no 


ti2  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

dream,  but  by  speaking  with  God  in  the  liglit 
of  opeu  day. 

For  me,  too,  there  is  deep  meaning  in  these 
words  of  the  ancient  book.  Often  have  I 
complained  within  myself  that  my  life  has 
fallen  on  evil  days.  Often  have  I  longed  to 
get  back  to  the  times  of  miracle,  of  vision, 
and  of  dream,  and  have  held  those  to  be 
specially  favoured  who  were  thus  permitted 
to  commune  with  God.  Yet  the  judgment  of 
these  times  themselves  was  very  different ;  it 
prized  more  the  lot  which  has  fallen  to  me. 
It  held  those  to  be  the  least  favoured  who  did 
not  see  God  face  to  face,  nor  speak  with  Him 
mouth  to  mouth,  but  who  beheld  Him  only 
through  the  miraculous  cloud  and  fire.  There- 
fore, my  soul,  weep  not  for  the  miraculous 
messengers,  for  the  pillar  of  cloud  by  day, 
and  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night.  Thine  is  a 
higher  privilege  than  to  see  God  through 
intermediaries ;  thou  canst  see  Him  for  thy- 
self. The  messengers  are  withdrawn,  but  only 
because  the  King  himself  has  come.  What 
need  for  thee  to  hear  voices  in  the  night, 
when  by  night  and  day  thou   hast  one  per- 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  113 

petual  voice  ?  What  need  for  thee  to  see 
special  visions,  when  all  sense  is  one  con- 
tinuous vision  —  the  vision  of  His  divine 
garment  as  His  presence  passes  by  ?  What 
need  for  thee  to  receive  at  intervals  the  fallinPf 
manna,  when  thou  canst  partake  every  hour 
and  every  moment  of  that  gift  of  natural 
beneficence — the  old  corn  of  the  land  1 


XLVIII. 

THE  KEY  TO  GOD'S  SILENCE. 

"  IVe  shall  all  be  changed." — i  Cor.  xv.  51. 

Often  have  I  asked  myself,  Why  is  it  that 
the  religion  of  the  Son  of  Man  is  so  silent 
about  the  destiny  of  the  sons  of  men  ?  He 
has  told  us  of  many  mansions,  but  He  has  not 
revealed  their  form.  Other  masters  have  been 
explicit,  minute,  detailed  in  their  descriptions 
of  the  comiijg  heaven,  but  the  verdict  even  of 
Christ's  most  beloved  disciple  is  this  :  "  It 
doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be."     And 

H 


114  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

here  is  the  key  to  the  whole  silence  :  before  we 
reach  heaven  "  we  shall  all  be  chanofed."  It 
is  as  if  it  were  said  :  What  is  the  use  of 
describing  the  joys  of  heaven  ?  they  would 
not  be  joys  to  you  as  yet.  You  would  not 
tell  the  child  of  the  pleasures  he  shall  have 
when  he  becomes  a  man.  And  why  ?  because 
the  pleasantness  of  these  pleasures  is  now 
beyond  him.  He  would  shed  bitter  tears  to 
be  told  that  in  the  time  to  come  he  should 
rejoice  in  that  which  is  not  play — in  study,  in 
work,  in  care,  in  responsibility,  in  duty.  He 
shall  see  the  glory  of  these  things  when  he 
himself  shall  be  chansfed. 

Thou  who  art  crying  for  a  new  revelation  of 
heaven,  art  thou  ready  for  thy  wish  ?  Would 
it  be  to  thee  a  joy  if  there  were  revealed  to  thee 
the  pleasures  at  God's  right  hand  1  What  if 
these  pleasures  should  be  what  the  selfish  man 
calls  pain  ?  Knowest  thou  not  that  the  joys  of 
love  are  not  the  joys  of  lovelessness  1  Love's 
joy  is  the  surrender  of  itself;  the  joy  of  love- 
lessness is  the  keeping  of  itself.  If  heaven 
Wore  open  to  thy  vision,  the  siglit  might  startle 
thee;  thou  mightst  call  for  the  rocks  to  hide 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  115 

thee,  for  the  mountains  to  cover  thee  from  the 
view.  To  make  the  revelation  a  joy  to  thee 
thou  thyself  must  be  changed  into  the  same 
image.  It  is  not  every  soul  that  can  rejoice  to 
be  a  ministering  spirit  sent  forth  to  minister  to 
the  heirs  of  salvation  ;  to  rejoice  in  it  fully  we 
must  all  be  changed.  If  death  were  abolished 
to-day  it  would  not  free  thee  from  that  need. 
It  is  not  death  that  demands  thy  change  ;  it 
is  life.  It  is  not  death  that  brings  thy  change; 
it  is  the  Spirit  of  the  Christ.  Thou  needst  not 
wait  for  death  to  find  thy  change,  for  the 
Spirit  too  can  transform  in  a  moment,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye.  Blessed  are  they  who 
shall  not  taste  of  death  until  they  shall  see 
the  kingdom  of  God. 


XLIX. 

PEACE  BETTER  THAN  JOY. 

*'  Son,    thou   art   ever  with  vie,  and  all  that  I  have  is 
thine." — Luke  xv.  31. 

The  elder  brother  was  surprised  at  the  prodi- 
gal's joy,  surprised  that  such  a  joy  should  have 


It6  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

been  vonclisafed  to  liini.  He  saw  him  in  the 
experience  of  a  rapture  which  he  himself  had 
never  possessed  and  could  not  now  command, 
and  it  seemed  for  the  time  an  incongruous 
thin  Of.  He  had  lived  all  his  life  in  his  father's 
house,  and  had  never  strayed  from  the  haunts 
of  home,  yet  he  had  never  known  the  ecstasy 
of  the  human  spirit ;  his  brother  had  only  now 
wakened  to  the  thought  of  home,  and  his 
heart  was  on  fire  with  joy.  Was  the  elder  son 
inferior  by  reason  of  this  greater  calm  ?  Not 
so  thought  the  Father.  "  Son,  thou  art  ever 
with  me,  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine."  To 
Him  the  greater  calm  was  a  proof  of  greater 
nearness.  It  was  just  because  there  had  been 
no  interruption  in  the  home-life  that  there  was 
no  place  for  ecstasy.  This  man  had  never  seen 
aught  but  beauty,  never  heard  aught  but 
music ;  wherefore  should  he  cry  out  in  rap- 
ture at  a  scene  or  break  forth  into  ecstasy  at  a 
song "?  God's  breath  was  in  him  every  moment, 
every  hour,  every  day ;  why  should  he  be  ex- 
cited by  that  which  to  him  was  no  new  thing  1 
Verily,  peace  was  from  him  a  higher  tribute 
than  joy. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  117 

My  soul,  do  not  undervalue  thy  peace.  Do 
not  say  that  the  calm  that  has  never  left  a 
Father's  house  is  inferior  to  the  flutter  that 
has  waked  in  coming  home.  It  is  not  inferior, 
it  is  brighter,  purer.  He  who  has  gone  forth 
iuto  the  far  country  and  wasted  his  substance 
in  riotous  living  may  in  his  return  experience 
a  joy  of  contrast  which  others  cannot  know, 
for  the  transition  from  midnight  into  day 
must  indeed  be  dazzling,  radiant.  Yet  me- 
thinks  it  is  better  to  have  the  day  without  the 
nio-ht,  the  home  without  the  exile,  the  calm 
without  the  storm.  There  may  be  less  joy,  but 
there  will  be  more  peace  ;  there  will  be  less 
marvel,  but  there  will  be  more  permanence. 
To  breathe  the  breath  of  God  as  a  natural 
atmosphere — that  is  the  highest  blessing,  and 
the  highest  tribute  of  Infinite  Love  is  this  : 
"  Son,  thou  art  ever  with  me,  and  all  that  I 
have  is  thine." 


Ii8  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

L. 

OBEDIENCE  BETTER  THAN  SACRIFICE. 
^^  Behold,  to  obey  is  better  than  sacrijice.'" — i  Sam.  xv.  22. 

When  Samuel  spoke  these  words  he  was  a 
Christian.  In  that  moment  he  had  leapt  the 
gulf  of  centuries,  and  left  his  nation  far  behind. 
He  had  caught  the  glimmer  of  a  new  and 
better  sun — the  Lioht  that  waited  to  lisfhten 
every  man.  AVell  might  he  cry  to  his  country- 
men, "Behold  !  "  for  the  thing  he  was  about  to 
utter  was  to  them  a  startling  thing.  They 
had  thought  that  the  crown  of  religion  was 
sacrifice,  pain,  the  sense  of  privation  and 
suffering ;  he  tells  them  that  the  crown  of 
religion  is  the  abolition  of  the  sense  of  pain, 
the  overcoming  of  the  feeling  of  privation. 
He  tells  them  that  the  crown  of  religion  is  to 
obey,  to  yield  the  will,  to  surrender  the  life,  to 
have  a  heart  harmonious  with  the  thins^  com- 
manded.  Not  the  pain  but  the  painlessness 
was  the  glory,  not  the  suffering  involved  in  the 
doing,  but  the  delight  with  which  the  work  was 
done  ;  to  obey  was  better  tlian  sacrifice. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  119 

0  Thou  that  desirest  not  sacrifice,  that  seek- 
est  not  the  pain  but  the  glory  of  Tliy  people, 
let  me  enter  into  Thy  joy — the  joy  of  my 
Lord.  Let  me  enter  into  that  joy  whose 
delight  was  to  do  Thy  will,  into  that  rest  that 
under  the  shadow  of  a  cross  could  say,  "  Peace 
I  leave  with  you  ;  my  peace  I  give  unto  you." 
Let  me  be  dead  to  the  law  through  His  spirit 
of  universal  love ;  let  the  sense  of  duty  itself 
be  transcended  in  the  thought  of  glorious  pri- 
vilege. There  is  no  pain  in  love  any  more 
than  there  is  fear.  Why  should  I  measure  my 
piety  by  my  misery  ?  why  should  grace  be 
high  when  the  temperature  of  nature  is  low  ? 
It  is  not  my  penance  that  brings  me  near  to 
Thee ;  it  is  my  penance  that  proves  me  to  be 
still  distant  from  Thee.  When  I  shall  touch 
Thee  there  shall  be  no  more  penance,  no  more 
night,  no  more  sea,  no  more  sacrifice.  I  shall 
have  reached  that  perfect  obedience  which  is 
perfect  love,  and  therefore  perfect  painless- 
ness. The  chains  shall  fall  from  me,  the 
clouds  shall  melt  from  nie,  the  shadows  shall 
fly  from  me,  and  in  the  spirit  of  Him  who  has 
conquered  not  only  death  but  sacrifice,  I  too 


I20  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

shall  be  able  to  say,  "  Lo,   I  come  ;  1  delight 
to  do  Thy  will." 


LI. 

THE  CURE  FOR  PAIN. 

"  Afid  Elijah  said  unto  her,  Fear  not ;  go  and  do  as  thou 
hast  said :  but  make  me  thereof  a  little  cai:e  first, 
and  bring  it  unto  me,  and  after  malie  for  thee  and Jor 
thy  son." — i  Kings  xvii.  13. 

A  WONDERFULLY  suggestive  picture  I  The  pro- 
phet of  God  brings  to  a  starving  woman  the 
revelation  of  coming  plenty,  and  He  tells  her 
to  work  on  the  faith  of  its  coming.  But 
strange  to  say,  she  is  to  begin  her  work  not  by 
getting  but  by  giving.  Her  first  gathering  is 
to  be  not  for  herself  but  for  another — for  the 
prophet  of  God  :  "  Make  me  a  little  cake  first, 
and  after  make  for  thee  and  for  thy  son."  Do 
not  wonder  at  such  a  command.  Do  not 
think  that  it  implied  any  coldness  in  the  heart 
of  the  prophet,  any  indifi'erence  to  human 
want,  any  ignorance  of  the  pains  of  poverty. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  121 

It  was  a  command  sublimely  benevolent,  far- 
reaching  in  its  appreciation  of  the  needs  of 
man.  Is  not  our  first  need,  whether  in  things 
spiritual  or  things  temporal,  to  be  lifted  out  of 
ourselves  ?  Self-thought  is  the  deepest  source 
of  our  pain.  Am  I  oppressed  with  the  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day  ?  it  will  do  me  no  good  to 
dwell  upon  it,  it  will  only  be  increased  by 
meditation.  Let  me  remember  that  other 
souls  are  also  weighed  down  by  the  same 
burden  and  the  same  heat,  that  other  hearts 
are  also  heavy  with  a  like  labour  and  laden- 
ness.  If  I  can  remember  this,  my  own  burden 
shall  fall  from  me  ;  if  I  can  give  first  to  others 
I  shall  be  strong  to  procure  for  myself-  There- 
fore, my  sou],  there  is  for  thee  a  deep  meaning 
in  this  picture.  Art  thou  in  trouble  ?  others 
are  in  trouble.  Art  thou  in  bereavement  ? 
there  is  not  a  house  without  its  vacant  chair. 
Art  thou  perplexed  with  mystery  ?  thou  hast 
a  fellowship  in  the  mystery.  Hast  thou  no 
thouQ-ht  for  those  who  suffer  what  thou  suffer- 
est  1  arise  and  look  around  thee.  There  are 
hearts  to  be  bound  like  thine,  there  are  tears 
to  be  dried  like   thine,  there  are  days  to  be 


■122  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

illumined  like  thine.  Tby  very  sorrow  has 
put  a  gift  into  thj  hand — sympathy.  Give  it, 
and  the  store  of  thine  own  strensfth  shall  be 
increased.  Go  forth  from  thyself  but  for  an 
hour,  and  verily  on  thy  return  thou  shalt  find 
the  old  place  radiant  with  a  new  light,  beauti- 
ful with  a  new  glory,  holy  with  a  new  spirit — 
the  Spirit  of  the  Lord. 


LII. 

GOD'S  PROMISE  OF  PROSPERITY. 
"  WJiaisoever  he  doeth  shall  prosper.'" — Ps.  i.  3. 

Our  first  thought  is,  what  a  grand  promise, 
what  an  incentive  to  the  o-ood  man  to  he  oood  ! 
Who  would  not  be  a  saint  to  have  such  purple 
and  fine  linen  and  sumptuous  faring  every 
day,  to  have  a  passport  tlj rough  the  world  to 
fortune,  to  be  promised  that  in  all  things  he 
should  prosper  ?  Our  second  thought  is,  is 
it  true  ?  Do  we  see  that  the  saint  prospers 
in  whatsoever  he  doeth  ?  Does  it  not  rather 
seem  as  if  the  man  of  God  were  the  man  of 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  123 

special  burdens,  labouring  more  than  others, 
heavy  laden  alcove  his  fellows.  Our  third 
thought  is,  have  we  rightly  read  the  promise  ? 
Does  it  mean  what  we  have  taken  it  to  mean  ? 
Is  it  really  said  that  the  goo'd  man  shall  pros- 
per in  whatsoever  he  doeth  ?  Nay,  but  some- 
thing very  different  is  said,  "  Whatsoever  he 
doeth  shall  prosper."  The  Psalmist  is  not 
thinking  of  the  man,  but  of  the  work.  The 
prosperity  which  he  promises  is  not  the  earthly 
triumph  of  the  individual,  but  the  earthly 
triumph  of  the  truth  which  he  proclaims. 
The  man  himself  may  die  ere  his  work  be 
done.  Moses  may  sink  weary  by  the  wayside 
and  the  commonplace  Joshua  in  his  room 
may  enter  in,  but  his  work  shall  not  die,  it 
shall  be  found  again  after  many  days  : 
"  Whatsoever  he  doeth  shall  prosper." 

Does  this  seem  to  thee  a  less  glorious 
reading  of  the  promise  ?  If  thou  art  a  man  of 
God  it  cannot  do  so.  To  the  man  of  God 
there  is  nothing  so  dear  as  the  work  of  God. 
No  promise  would  to  him  be  so  sweet  as  the 
prosperity  of  tliat  work,  not  even  the  promise 
of  his  own  prosperity.      Art  thou  dearer  to 


124  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

thyself  tlian  thy  work  ?  tlien  tliou  art  not  yet 
fit  to  be  a  worker.  If  thou  shalt  stand  on 
Mount  Nebo  and  behold  the  Promised  Land 
of  thine  own  labours  which  yet  thou  thyself 
shalt  never  reach,  wilt  thou  weep  because 
Joshua  shall  enter  in  ?  If  so,  it  shall  not  be 
written  of  thee,  "  His  eye  was  not  dim,  nor 
his  natural  strength  abated."  But  if  the 
spirit  of  Christ  be  thine,  if  thou  shalt  merge 
thyself  in  thy  labour,  if  thou  shalt  lose  thyself 
in  the  glory  of  thy  mission,  thine  is,  indeed,  a 
vision  undimmed.  Thou  shalt  see  of  the 
travail  of  thy  soul  and  shalt  be  satisfied — 
satisfied  because  others  shall  reap  in  joy  what 
thou  hast  sown  in  tears.  Thy  surest  word  of 
prophecy  shall  be  thy  highest  source  of  bless- 
ino- ;  "  Whaisoever  he  doelh  shall  prosper." 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT  125 

LIII. 

SIN'S  FIRST  MANIFESTATION. 

"And  he  sent  than  to  Bethlehem,  and  said,  Go  and  search 
diligently  for  the  young  child ;  and  when  ye  have 
fottnd  Bini,  bring  vie  word  again,  that  I  may  come 
and  worship  Him  also." — Matt.  ii.  6. 

There  it  is.  Sin  never  reveals  itself  at  the 
outset  as  sin ;  if  it  did,  we  should  at  once  be 
repelled.  If  it  came  to  the  youth  and  said, 
"  I  am  evil  ;  follow  me,"  is  there  any  youth 
in  the  nation  who  would  obey  it  ?  The  spell 
is  broken  when  Satan  declares  himself  to  he 
Satan,  when  he  says  in  so  many  words,  "  Fall 
down  and  worship  me."  But  when  the  tempter 
first  comes  to  the  soul  he  comes  not  in  his 
own  dress  ;  he  comes  in  the  dress  of  virtue. 
So  far  from  appearing  as  the  solicitor  to  evil, 
he  professes  to  be  the  ally  of  what  is  good 
and  true.  He  proclaims  not  himself  as  the 
enemy  of  the  Christ,  but  as  one  who  would 
support  and  further  the  cause  of  Christ.  The 
allurement  of  vice  is  its  resemblance  to  virtue ; 


126  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

it  adorns  itself  in  borrowed  robes.  It  assumes 
the  coiuiterfeit  of  that  freedom  which  belono;s 
only  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Master.  It  bids  the 
youth  say,  "  I  do  not  care,"  in  counterfeit  of 
that  divine  carelessness  which  has  cast  its  bur- 
dens on  the  Lord.  It  offers  him  a  prospect 
of  self-abandonment  in  counterfeit  of  the 
Christian  self-surrender.  It  tells  him  to  break 
the  shackles  of  authority  and  come  out  into 
the  open  plain,  Mn  counterfeit  of  that  holier 
consciousness,  "  I  am  dead  to  the  law  that  I 
might  live  unto  God." 

My  soul,  distrust  the  seeming  resemblances 
between  the  kingdom  of  Herod  and  the  king- 
dom  of  Christ.  There  is  not,  there  never  can 
be,  an  alliance  between  them  ;  their  likeness 
lies  on  the  surf\ice.  License  is  not  freedom  ; 
libertinism  is  not  liberty  ;  recklessness  is  not 
conquest  of  care  ;  self-will  is  not  manliness. 
Go  and  search  diligently  for  the  young  child, 
and  when  thou  hast  found  Him,  thou  wilt 
find  that  Herod  could  never  have  worshipped 
Him.  Their  unlikeness  ^ill  grow  the  longer 
they  stand  side  by  side.  Herod  asks  from 
thee  at  the  beginning  only  a  trifling  tribute, 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  127 

but  he  concludes  by  proving  thee  a  shave  ; 
Christ  at  the  outset  demands  thy  heart,  thy 
strength,  tliine  all,  but  He  ends  by  making 
thee  free.  It  is  not  Herod,  but  the  star  of 
unselfish  hope  that  cau  lead  thee  to  the  place 
where  the  young  Child  lies. 


LIV. 

HOW  TO  KNOW  GOD'S  LOVE. 

"  To  knozv  the  love  of  Chris ',  lohich  passeth  knowledge^ — 
Eph.  iii.  19. 

Do  not  say  within  thyself,  I  will  not  be- 
lieve what  I  do  not  understand.  There  is  a 
faculty  in  thee  that  passeth  understandino-. 
Thou  hast  a  power  which  is  higher  than 
reason,  and  which  sees  what  reason  cannot 
see.  Thy  reason  can  only  mount  on  the  steps 
of  an  argument,  but  there  is  somethino-  iu 
thee  which  flies  to  truth's  conclusion  as  the 
lark  flies  to  the  morning.  Thou  canst  not 
weigh    it,   thou  canst    not  measure    it,   thou 


1 28  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

canst  not  with  accuracy  even  name  it,  yet  it 
lifts  tliee  into  ivo-ions  beyond  tliinc  under- 
standing,  it  carries  thee  into  worlds  which 
transcend  thy  reason,  it  passeth  the  powers  of 
knowledge. 

There  are  two  things  which  pass  thy  know- 
ledge in  the  sphere  of  faith,  two  things  which 
thou  canst  not  know  by  the  understanding — 
the  peace  of  Christ  and  the  love  of  Christ. 
All  reason  would  say  that  their  existence  is 
impossible.  How  can  a  man  have  peace  when 
the  waters  are  swelling  round  him  ?  how  can 
a  man  be  divinely  loved  ere  he  is  yet  divinely 
lovely  ?  Yet  the  peace  and  the  love  alike 
come  through  shut  doors ;  how  they  come  we 
cannot  tell,  yet  we  feel  that  they  are  here. 
Thou  knowest  it  is  IIis  peace  by  thy  calm  in 
storm  ;  unrest  could  never  have  created  rest. 
Thou  knowest  it  is  His  love  by  thy  want  in 
affluence ;  the  earth  and  the  fulness  thereof 
could  never  have  made  thy  thirst  for  heaven. 
It  is  by  thy  longing  for  Him  thou  knowest 
that  He  longeth  for  thee.  Thou  couldst  not 
have  panted  for  Him  if  He  had  not  panted  for 
thee.     Thv  love  for  Him  is  to  His  love  for 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  129 

thee  what  the  sunlight  on  the  sea  is  to  the 
sunshine  in  the  sky — a  reflex,  a  mirror,  a 
diffusion  ;  thou  art  giving  back  the  glory  that 
has  been  cast  upon  the  waters.  In  the  attrac- 
tion of  thy  life  to  Him,  in  the  cleaving  of  thy 
heart  to  Him,  in  the  soaring  of  thy  spirit  to 
Him,  thou  art  told  that  He  is  near  thee.  In 
all  that  thou  hast  done  and  thought  and 
suffered  for  His  sake,  in  all  that  thou  hast  pur- 
posed and  planned  and  achieved  for  His  ser- 
vice, in  every  movement  wherewith  thy  spirit 
has  vibrated  at  the  sound  of  His  name,  thou 
hearest  the  beating  of  His  pulse  for  thee,  thou 
know^est  that  He  loves  thee. 


LV. 

THE  BOLDNESS  OF  CHRISTIAN  HOPE. 

"  77/a/  ye  7night  be  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God."^ 
Eph,  iii.  19. 

What  an  aspiration  for  a  band  of  fishermen, 
peasants,  slaves  !     It  was  an  aspiration  after 


133       MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

more  than  Eomau  dominion,  after  more  than 
Judaic  empire.  The  proudest  dreams  of  Pan- 
theism never  dared  to  soar  so  high.  The 
Brahman  had  aspired  to  be  lost  in  God,  to 
have  the  little  spark  of  his  individual  being 
absorbed  in  the  mighty  fire  of  the  universe; 
that  was  rather  humility  than  pride.  Here 
was  a  company  of  men  aspiring  to  reach  God 
yet  not  to  be  lost  in  God,  aiming  to  touch  the 
brightness  of  the  Infinite  Glory  without  losing 
the  spark  of  their  own  individual  being.  Was 
not  this  presumption,  was  not  this  impiety, 
was  not  this  fitted  to  destroy  all  the  tender 
graces  of  the  Christian  life  ? — the  poverty  of 
spirit  which  had  been  promised  the  kingdom, 
the  meekness  of  heart  which  was  to  inherit  the 
earth.  '. 

Nay,  but  who  was  this  God  with  whose 
fulness  they  desired  to  be  filled  ?  His  name 
was  Love.  If  His  name  had  been  aught  else 
than  Love  the  desire  of  these  men  would  have 
been  indeed  presumption.  But  to  be  filled 
with  the  fulness  of  love  is  not  pride  ;  it  is  the 
deepest,  the  most  intense  humility.  He  that 
is  filled  with  love  is  thereby  made  the  servant 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  131 

of  all  ;  be  repeats  the  life  of  the  Diviuc  M;ui, 
and  becomes  heir  to  His  burden.  To  him 
belonjx  sorrows  not  his  own.  He  labours  in 
the  labour  of  hinnauity,  he  suffers  in  the  tears 
of  affliction,  he  is  wounded  in  the  battle  of 
the  weak.  His  glory  is  bis  pain.  That  which 
fills  him  with  God  is  that  which  fills  him  with 
sadness,  which  bows  him  down  with  the  sense 
of  nothingness  ;  the  love  that  makes  him  great 
is  the  power  that  makes  him  gentle.  0  Love 
that  passest  knowledge,  come  into  my  heart 
with  all  Thy  fulness,  that  my  heart  may  be 
made  gentle  with  Thy  gentleness.  Without 
Thee  I  have  no  humility,  because  I  have  no 
burden  ;  I  live  for  myself,  because  I  have  no 
thought  beyond  self.  But  when  Thou  shalt 
enter  in  I  shall  cense  to  be  my  own.  I  shall 
become  heir  to  the  sins  and  sorrows  of  the  vast 
world,  I  shall  take  up  the  crosses  of  the  labour- 
ing and  the  heavy-laden.  When  I  am  filled 
by  Thee  I  shall  be  emptied  of  all  pride  ;  when 
I  am  conscious  of  Thee  I  shall  be  foro-etful  of 
myself.  In  Thy  strength  shall  I  find  my 
weakness,  in  Thy  wealth  shall  I  learn  my 
poverty,  in  Tby  fulness  shall  I  awake  to  the 


132  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

sense  of  my  nothingness ;  I  shall  become  the 
servant  of  humanity  when  Thou  shalt  fill  my 
souL 


LVI. 

SPIRITUAL  WEANING. 

"  When  the  unclean  spirit  is  gone  out  of  a  man,  he  walkdh 
through  dry  places^  seeking  rest,  and  findcth  none." — 
Matt.  xii.  43. 

ThePvE  is  no  moment  of  the  spiritual  life  so 
painful  and  so  dangerous  as  its  weaning  ;  the 
old  is  past,  and  the  new  is  not  yet  como.  The 
hardest  time  to  bear  is  neither  Egypt  nor  tlie 
Promised  Land,  but  the  desert  that  lies  be- 
tween. Egypt  has  the  pleasures  of  sin,  the 
Promised  Land  has  the  pleasures  of  holiness, 
but  the  desert  has  no  pleasures.  It  has  given 
up  the  joys  of  Pharaoh,  and  it  has  not  yet 
reached  the  delights  of  Canaan.  It  is  only  a 
stage  of  prohibitions ;  it  forbids  the  pleasures 
of  the  past,  and  it  has  as  yet  not  even  the 
grapes  of  Eshcol  to  offer  in  their  room. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  133 

My  soul,  tbou  caust  not  rest  in  the  desert, 
tliou  canst  not  be  satisfied  with  a  law  which 
only  says,  "  Thou  slialt  not."  It  is  a  hard 
thing  to  have  the  old  cup  snatched  from  thy 
lips  ere  any  new  cup  is  presented  to  thee.  It 
is  a  hard  thing  to  have  the  old  tenants  ex- 
pelled from  thy  dwelling  ere  any  new  guests 
are  admitted  there.  It  is  a  hard  thing  to 
have  the  house  empty,  swept,  and  garnished 
ere  ever  thou  hast  learned  that  it  is  empty 
for  the  reception  of  new  visitors,  garnished  for 
the  coming  of  nobler  guests.  Thine  old  love 
of  sin  cannot  be  replaced  by  law ;  it  can  only 
be  replaced  by  a  new  love.  Thine  old  joy  in 
Egypt  cannot  be  supplanted  by  fear  ;  it  can 
only  be  supplanted  by  the  joy  of  Canaan.  It 
is  vain  to  tell  thee  to  walk  not  in  the  counsel 
of  the  ungodly,  and  stand  not  in  the  way  of 
sinners,  until  thy  delight  shall  be  in  the  law  of 
the  Lord  and  thy  meditation  on  it  day  and 
night.  Therefore  thy  prayer  must  be :  0 
Love  that  art  the  recompense  for  every  loss, 
send  into  my  heart  the  well-spring  of  Thy  joy, 
to  gladden  with  its  healing  waters  the  places 
that  have  been  left  dry.     Fill  up  the  solitudes 


134  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

of  that  s^piut  which  has  been  emptied  of  its 
old  treasures  and  swept  of  its  past  ideals. 
Teach  me  that  behind  the  reproach  of  the 
desert  there  is  to  be  found  greater  riches 
than  all  the  treasures  of  Egypt.  Change  the 
struggle  of  my  dawn  into  the  spontaneity  of  a 
second  day.  Let  law  become  grace  ;  let  duty 
become  privilege ;  let  service  become  freedom  ; 
let  work  become  play  ;  let  sacrifice  become 
joy.  When  I  shall  exchange  the  spirit  of 
heaviness  for  the  garment  of  praise,  the  old 
house  shall  be  empty  no  more. 


LVII. 

THE  UNIVERSAL  HARMONY, 

"  And  I  looked,  a7id,  lo,  a  Lamb  stood  on  the  mount  Ston, 
and  with  Hifn  an  hundred  forty  atidfour  thousand, 
having  His  Father's  name  written  in  their  foreheads. 
.  .  .  And  I  heard  the  voice  of  harpers  harping  with 
their  harps." — Rev.  xiv.  1-2, 

The  summing  up  of  the  universe  is  the  revela- 
t'ou  of  harmony.     It  is  not  that  the  harmony 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  135 

comes  at  the  end,  but  that  the  harmony  is  re- 
vealed at  the  end.  The  universe  is  all  music, 
but  it  is  not  all  music  to  our  ear.  We  only 
hear  a  few  chords,  and  they  are  minor  chords. 
The  minor  chords  seem  discords  when  they 
stand  alone  ;  they  want  the  full  symphony  to 
bring  out  their  symmetry.  Often  art  thou 
crying  out  that  thou  art  living  in  a  world  of 
discords.  Thou  art  living  in  a  world  of  perfect 
music,  onl}^  thou  hearest  but  a  small  portion 
of  the  music.  Often  art  thou  saying  that  the 
coming  melody  shall  atone  for  the  jarring 
cliorJs.  Nay ;  say  rather  that  the  jarring 
chords  themselves  shall  be  revealed  as  parts 
of  the  completed  harmony.  The  melody  is 
not  to  come,  it  has  come  already  ;  it  has  only 
to  be  completed  to  be  revealed,  and  then  the 
harpers  shall  stand  upon  the  glassy  sea. 

My  soul,  bethink  thee,  what  ivas  that 
which  to  the  Seer  of  Patmos  made  the  har- 
mony complete  ?  It  was  the  vision  of  a  vast 
multitude  surrounding  with  their  praises  the 
Lamb  of  sacrifice.  There  was  a  time  when,  to 
that  multitude,  the  spectacle  of  sacrifice  would 
have  brought  discord  to   the    heart ;   in   the 


136  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

completed  harmony  it  brings  joy.  The  sweet- 
est music  to  the  heart  of  thy  God  is  the  ripe- 
ness of  thy  soul  for  sacrifice,  the  moment  when 
thou  art  able  to  say,  "  I  am  now  ready  to  be 
ofiered."  At  such  a  moment  all  the  sorrows  of 
life  are  justified,  sanctified.  The  minor  chords 
get  a  meaning  and  receive  a  vindication  when 
the  harpers  stand  around  Mount  Zion  in  praise 
of  the  sacrificial  Lamb.  Knowest  thou  not 
that  this  was  from  the  outset  the  goal  of  thy 
being — to  be  made  perfect  through  sufieriug  ? 
It  was  for  this  that  thy  first  innocence  was 
clouded.  It  was  for  this  that  thy  first  joy 
was  dimmed.  It  was  for  this  that  thy  first 
hope  was  shaken — that  thou  mightest  reach 
Olivet  by  the  steps  of  Calvary.  The  wilder- 
ness of  the  Son  of  Man  is  better  than  the 
garden  of  Adam.  The  morning  stars  sang 
together  over  thine  untried  nature ;  but  there 
awaits  thee  a  yet  grander  music — when  the 
harps  of  God  shall  proclaim  that  thou  hast 
conquered  through  the  Cross. 


MOMENTS  ON  niE  MOUNT.  137 

LVIII. 

CHRISTIANITY  NOT  ASCETICISM. 

"  ^u^  if  we  -icaik  in  the  light,  as  He  is  iji  the  light,  we  have 
fellowship  one  with  another^ — i  John  i.  7. 

"  If  we  walk  in  the  light  we  have  fellowship." 
What  a  difference  between  the  Divine  and  the 
human  view  of  religion !  Most  of  us  are 
saying  within  our  hearts,  '*  If  we  walk  in  the 
light,  we  ought  to  have  no  fellowship."  I  once 
thoufyht  that  relio;ion  meant  withdrawal  from 
the  haunts  of  men.  I  thouo-ht  that  it  sionified 
separation,  isolation,  asceticism,  penance,  joy- 
lessness;  I  thought  that  the  light  manifested 
itself  by  darkness.  God  says,  on  the  contrary, 
that  life  never  becomes  social  until  His  lioht 
has  come.  It  is  the  want  of  His  lio^ht  that 
prevents  me  from  having  fellowship,  that 
debars  me  from  enjoying  companionship.  As 
long  as  my  heart  is  dark  I  will  not  reveal  it 
to  my  brother-man  ;  as  long  as  his  heart  is 
dark  he  will  not  reveal  it  to  me.  And  so 
we  are  both  alone.     Our  solitude  is  the  fruit 


138  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

of  uur  darkness  ;  if  the  light  would  come  we 
would  have  fellowship.  All  light  paiit-^  to 
reveal  itself.  Who  ever  sought  fellowship 
like  Him — the  light  and  life  of  men  ?  To 
whom  did  He  not  outpour  Himself?  to  whom 
did  He  not  reveal  Himself?  What  sphere  of 
human  history  did  He  not  strive  to  make  His 
own  ?  Pharisee  and  publican,  Jew  and  Gentile, 
rich  and  destitute,  learned  and  ignorant — He 
met  them  all.  He  touched  those  spheres  of 
worldliness  which  the  world  itself  could  not 
touch  without  increased  defilement.  He  was 
the  light,  and  therefore  He  could  touch  the 
darkness.  0  light  that  lightest  every  man, 
come  into  this  heart  of  mine  that  in  Thy 
radiance  I  may  have  Thy  power  of  fellowship. 
I  am  weary  of  my  own  narrowness,  I  am  tired 
of  my  own  isolation ;  I  long  to  be  able  like 
Thee  to  break  through  the  limits  that  debar 
me  from  the  life  of  my  brother.  I  long  to  be 
able  like  Thee  to  touch  impurity  without  stain, 
to  shine  in  darkness  '-A.ithout  receiving  its 
shadow.  I  long  like  Thee  to  sympathise  with 
that  which  is  beneath  me,  to  love  that  which 
is  unlike  me,  to  commune  with  that  which  has 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  139 

no  voice  for  me.  Ouly  in  Thee  shall  that 
power  be  mine,  therefore  I  wait  for  Thy 
commg.  When  Thou  shalt  touch  me  with 
Thy  presence,  I  too  shall  touch  all  things.  I 
shall  pass  uncorrupted  into  the  scenes  of  this 
great  world.  I  shall  mingle  in  its  pursuits 
and  they  shall  not  hurt  me,  I  shall  join  in 
its  pleasures  and  they  will  not  harm  me,  I 
shall  study  its  aims  and  they  will  not  lower 
my  heavenly  aspiration,  I  shall  meet  with  its 
prodigal  children  and  my  garments  shall  be 
undefiled  ;  all  fellowship  shall  be  mine  when  I 
w^alk  in  Thy  light. 


LIX. 

CHRISTIAN  CHARITY. 

"  Add  to  brotherly  kindness  charily. ^^ — 2  Pet.  i.  7- 

Christianity  here  reveals  itself  as  the  relisjion 
of  universal  love.  It  tells  men  that  it  is  not 
enouo^h  for  them  to  be  kind  to  those  who  are 
their  brethren;  they  must  be  kind  to  those 
who  are  not  their  brethren.  It  is  not  enough 
for  them  to  love  those  that  are  at  one  with 


140  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

them  ;  they  must  love  those  that  are  not  at 
one  with  them.  Christ's  love  is  like  no  other 
love ;  it  goes  down  to  those  that  are  outside 
the  pale  of  loveliness.  Human  love  can  only 
seek  her  own,  can  only  love  that  which  is  like 
herself.  Man  seeks  fellowship  with  him  that 
has  a  kindred  soul.  He  goes  out  to  meet  the 
heart  that  is  already  in  sympathy  with  his 
heart,  he  gives  back  to  his  brother  what  his 
brother  has  given  to  him.  But  Divine  love 
transcends  the  limits  of  its  own  sympathies. 
It  seeks  those  that  are  not  yet  brethren  ;  it 
goes  forth  to  make  brotherhood.  It  kee[)S 
not  on  the  plain  of  its  own  being ;  it  descends 
into  the  valleys  to  seek  and  to  save  that 
which  is  lost.  It  travels  down  into  the 
depths  to  bring  up  that  which  as  yet  has  no 
affinity  to  itself.  It  follow^s  the  prodigals  afar 
off,  it  searches  out  the  lepers  amid  the  tombs, 
it  gathers  in  the  outcasts  from  the  highways 
and  the  hedges;  it  seeks  those  who  are  not 
beautiful,  that  it  may  endow  them  with  its 
beauty. 

0  Thou  Divine  Love,  that  hast  revealed  to 
me  the  infinite  possibilities  of  loving,   make 


MOMENTS  OS  THE  MOUNT.  141 

me  a  sharer  in  Thy  life.  Much  of  what  I  call 
my  love  is  but  disguised  selfishness.  I  seek 
others  because  I  find  myself  in  them.  My 
heart  o;oes  out  to  the  hearts  that  2^0  out  to  me, 
my  sym23athy  expands  to  the  sympathies  that 
agree  with  me,  my  kindness  is  but  brotherly 
kindness.  I  want  more  than  that.  I  want 
kindness  for  the  unbrotherly,  sympathy  for  the 
erring,  tenderness  for  the  fallen,  love  for  the 
lost.  In  Thee,  in  Thee  alone  shall  I  find 
them.  Breathe  into  my  heart  the  breath  of 
Thine  own  life,  that  my  life  may  no  longer  be 
my  own.  Inspire  me  with  the  glory  of  Thy 
Cross — the  joy  of  bearing  the  burdens  of  the 
world's  weak  ones.  Lay  upon  me  that  yoke 
of  Thine  which  is  easy  because  it  kills  all  selfish 
care — the  yoke  of  humanity,  the  care  for  other 
souls.  Then  shall  my  heart  be  enlarged  to 
meet  the  life  of  man.  Then  in  the  depth  of 
Thy  love  shall  I  go  down  into  the  depths  of 
humanity,  and  shall  claim  my  brotherhood 
with  every  human  sonl.  When  I  have  reached 
the  power  of  universal  charity  I  shall  be  made 
divine  in  Thee. 


142       MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


LX. 

CHRIST'S  SENSE  OF  MYSTERY. 
'■'■He  marvelled  because  of  theh'  uv belief." — Mark  vi.  6. 

The  acts  of  the  Son  of  Man  are  to  us  miracu- 
lous ;  we  marvel  at  His  deeds.  But  have  we 
ever  thought  that  our  acts  were  to  Him 
miraculous  ?  He  marvelled  at  us  as  much 
as  we  marvelled  at  Him.  True,  the  cause  of 
the  wonder  was  in  each  case  different.  We 
wondered  at  His  greatness  ;  He  wondered  at 
our  littleness.  Everything  is  a  miracle  when 
it  transcends  the  law  of  our  nature.  Our 
littleness  transcended  the  law  of  His  nature. 
He  could  not  understand  our  meanness  of 
heart,  our  selfishness  of  aim,  our  coldness  of 
affection,  our  absence  of  enthusiasm,  our  dim- 
ness of  faith  ;  He  marvelled  at  it.  It  was  all 
so  unlike  Him,  that  to  Him  it  was  a  miracle. 
He  saw  in  it  a  violation  of  the  law  of  Divine 
nature,  a  suspension  of  the  powers  resident  in 
the    heaven-born    soul.     He    beheld   in   it   a 


MOME.\TS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  143 

greater  transformation  than  we  beheld  in  the 
turning  of  water  into  wine ;  that  was  but  the 
transforming  of  matter  into  matter,  tliis  was  the 
turning^  of  life  into  death.  It  was  the  earthli- 
ness  of  that  which  should  be  lieavcnly,  the 
meanness  of  that  which  should  be  majestic, 
the  poverty  of  that  which  should  be  precious, 
the  deadness  of  that  which  should  be  alive  for 
evermore :  it  contradicted  the  whole  rano-e  of 
His  Divine  experience,  and  He  marvelled  with 
an  exceeding  great  surprise. 

My  soiil,  be  not  thou  a  miracle  to  thy  Lord. 
Be  not  thou  a  thiug  at  which  He  that  fashioned 
thee  shall  wonder.  Be  not  thou  so  unlike 
His  nature  as  to  seem  to  Him  a  prodigy,  an 
object  at  which  to  gaze  and  marvel.  Rather 
be  it  thine  to  enter  into  union  with  His 
infinite  order,  to  be  harmonious  with  His 
eternal  law.  Be  it  thine  to  catch  so  much  of 
His  likeness  that  He  shall  recognise  Himself 
in  thee,  shall  behold  as  in  a  glass  His  own 
glory,  shall  rejoice  at  the  sight  of  that  which 
is  familiar  to  Him.  Then  shall  He  wonder  at 
thee  no  more,  for  He  shall  find  in  thee  a 
kindred  life.     He  shall  see  in  thee  the  reflex 


144  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

of  His  own  liglit,  tlie  shadow  of  His  own 
form,  the  travail  of  His  own  souL  He  shall 
behold  in  thee  what  the  Father  has  beheld  in 
Him — the  brightness  of  His  glory  and  the 
express  image  of  His  person. 


LXI. 

THE  KNOCKING  OF  THE  SPIRIT. 

"Be/iolif,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock!'' — Rev.  iii.  20. 

Why  does  He  not  come  in  ?  Is  not  this 
Divine  Spirit  omnipotent  ?  Has  He  not 
power  to  enter  where  He  will,  to  breatlie 
where  He  chooses,  to  blow  where  He  listeth  ? 
"Why,  then,  does  He  stand  without,  knocking 
at  the  door  of  a  frail  human  heart  ?  Could 
He  not  l)reak  down  that  door  in  a  moment,  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  and  annihilate  that 
opposing  barrier  which  disputes  His  claim  to 
universal  empire  ?  Yes,  but  in  so  doing  He 
would  annihilate  also  the  man.  What  makes 
me  a  man  is  just  my  power  to  open  the  door. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  145 

If  I  had  no  power  to  open  or  to  forbear  open- 
ing I  would  not  be  responsible.  The  Divine 
Spirit  might  then,  indeed,  do  witli  me  what 
He  will,  but  I  would  not  be  worth  His  pos- 
session. I  would  be  simply  as  the  uncon- 
scious stars  W'hich  He  fills  with  licfht,  as  the 
blind  winds  which  He  directs  on  their  way. 
But  if  the  stars  and  the  winds  had  been 
enough  He  would  never  have  said,  "  Let  us 
make  man."  He  made  me  because  He  meant 
me  to  be  more  than  a  star,  more  than  a  breath 
of  heaven.  He  meant  me  to  respond  to  Him- 
self, to  open  on  His  knocking  at  the  door. 
He  could  have  no  joy  in  breaking  down  the 
door,  in  taking  the  kingdom  of  my  heart  l)y 
violence ;  there  would  be  no  response  in  that, 
no  answer  of  a  heart  to  His  heart,  no  accept- 
ance of  a  will  by  His  will.  Therefore,  He 
prefers  to  stand  w^ithout  till  I  open,  to  knock 
tiil  I  hear,  to  speak  till  I  respond.  He  would 
not  have  my  being  to  be  lost  in  His,  for  His 
being  is  love,  and  love  demands  love. 

0  Thou  Divine  Spirit,  that  in  all  events  of 
life  art  knocking  at  the  door  of  my  heart,  help 
me   to   respond   to   Thee.     I    would    not   be 


146  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

driven  blindly  as  the  stars  over  their  courses. 
I  would,  not  be  made  to  work  out  Thy  will 
unwillingly,  to  fulfil  Thy  law  unintelligeutly, 
to  obey  Thy  mandates  unsympathetically. 
Where  Thou  goest  I  would  go,  where  Thou 
dwellest  I  would  dwell.  I  would  take  the 
events  of  my  life  as  good  and  perfect  gifts 
from  Thee ;  I  would  receive  even  the  sorrows 
of  life  as  disguised  gifts  from  Thee.  I  would 
have  my  heart  open  at  all  times  to  receive 
Thee — atmorniug,  noon,  and  night;  in  spring, 
and  summer,  and  winter.  Whether  Thou 
comest  to  me  in  sunshine  or  in  rain,  I  would 
take  Thee  into  my  heart  joyfully.  Thou  art 
Thyself  more  than  the  sunshine.  Thou  art 
Thyself  compensation  for  the  rain  ;  it  is  Thee 
and  not  Thy  gifts  I  crave ;  knock  and  I  shall 
open  unto  Thee. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  147 


LXII. 

MOMENTS  OF  ANTICIPATION. 

"  And  Jesus  saiih  unto  /li/n,  I  will  come  a?id  heal  him." — 
Matt.  viii.  7. 

There  are  some  prayers  wliicli  are  answered 
only  by  the  promise  of  an  answer.  The  cen- 
turion prays  for  his  servant  that  he  may  be 
healed  instantaneously ;  the  immediate  res- 
ponse is,  I  will  come.  Have  you  and  I  never 
experienced  this  ?  We  have  asked  something 
which  has  not  at  once  been  granted,  and  yet 
we  have  been  made  to  feel  that  there  was 
something  more  than  silence.  We  have  felt 
in  our  hearts  what  seemed  the  prophecy  of 
an  answer,  a  nameless,  unspeakable  strength 
which  told  us  it  would  one  day  all  be  well. 
The  summer  did  not  come  immediately,  but  the 
swallows  came  into  our  spring,  and  the  interpre- 
tation of  their  song  was  this,  "It  will  come." 

My  soul,  do  not  despise  thy  moments  of 
anticipation.  They  have  no  present  gifts  to 
bring,  but  they  bring  the  promise  of  great  gifts 


148  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

to  come  ;  they  have  no  immediate  answer  to 
thy  prayer,  but  tliey  tell  thee  of  a  time  when 
thy  prayer  ivill  be  answered.  Thinkest  thou 
it  is  a  b'obt  thing;  to  have  such  moments  ? 
Great  men  have  lived  on  them  and  died  on 
them.  Did  not  Abraham  leave  his  country 
and  his  father's  house  with  no  other  food  in 
his  heart  than  the  strength  of  a  promise? 
Was  it  not  that  promise  that  helped  him  to 
climb  the  Mount  Moriahs  of  life,  and  to  meet 
on  their  summits  the  great  sacrifices  to  which 
life  is  heir ;  he  was  made  strong  by  the  power 
of  aspiration,  by  the  voice  which  each  morn- 
ing said  to  him,  "  I  will  come."  So  sbalt  thou 
too  be  stroijg,  0  my  soul.  If  thou  shalt  set 
out  on  thy  journey  with  the  prophecy  of  an 
answered  prayer,  thou  too  shalt  climb  Mount 
Moriah  with  unfaltering  feet,  thou  too  with 
unblanched  cheek  shalt  meet  the  sacrifice  on 
its  summit.  The  glory  of  to-morrow  shall 
prefigure  itself  through  the  tears  of  to-day, 
and  the  song  of  the  approaching  swallows  shall 
be  heard  amid  the  snow  ;  all  shadows  vanish 
from  that  heart  to  which  God  has  said,  "I 
will  come." 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  149 

LXIII. 

WAYSIDE  SEEDS. 
'■^  Some  seeds  fell  by  the  wayside''' — Matt.  xiii.  4. 

There  are  some  men  who  have  no  experience, 
only  experiences.  They  never  gain  any  lesson 
from  life  itself,  only  from  what  they  call  the 
startling  events  of  life.  They  are  stirred  into 
emotion  by  what  seem  to  them  the  accidents 
of  the  world.  When  death  comes  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  they  are  impressed  with 
solemnity,  they  are  religious  for  an  hour  ;  but 
the  seed  has  fallen  only  by  the  wayside.  My 
soul,  is  it  so  with  thee  ?  Art  thou  living 
simply  by  the  ivayside  of  life  ?  Art  thou 
waking  up  at  stray  moments  to  the  con- 
viction that  there  are  solemnities  in  this  life 
of  thine  ?  Art  thou  livino;  in  indifference 
between  the  falling  of  each  new  seed  ?  Art 
thou  only  awakened  by  what  thou  callest  the 
catastroplies  of  life — by  death,  by  war,  by 
commercial  panic  ?  Then  thou  art  only  catch- 
ing seeds   by  the  wayside.     Yet  the   way   is 


I50.  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

more  solemn  than  the  wayside.  No  event  of 
thy  life  is  half  so  startling,  half  so  awful,  half 
so  mysterious  as  thy  life  itself.  Nothing  that 
happens  to  thee  is  so  worthy  of  meditation  as 
thine  own  being.  The  seeds  that  fall  by  the 
wayside  are  less  important  than  the  interven- 
ing space  that  lies  between.  The  quiet  time 
when  there  is  nothino;  startlinsj  is  the  most 
eventful  time  of  all,  for  it  is  then  that  thou 
thyself  art  growing — growing  by  the  nourish- 
ment of  the  past  seed,  and  ripening  for  nourish- 
ment by  the  seed  which  is  to  come. 

How  shall  I  reach  this  sense  of  solemnity, 
of  solemnity  everywhere  and  always  ?  Lord, 
I  can  only  reach  it  in  Thee.  If  I  felt,  like  the 
Psalmist,  that  Thou  wert  continually  with 
me,  I  would  feel  continually  solemn.  It  is  be- 
cause I  feel  Thee  to  be  with  me  only  at  start- 
linsf  moments  that  I  lose  the  sense  of  life's 
universal  solemnity.  Therefore,  Thou  all- 
pervading  Divine  Spirit,  do  Thou  impress 
me  with  Thine  all-pervadingness.  Teach  me 
that  Thou  art  not  in  one  place  more  than 
another.  Teach  me  that  I  cannot  flee  from 
Thy  presence,  that  Thou  art  with  me  not  only 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  151 

in  the  Betliaiiies  and  the  Calvaries,  but  in  the 
common  toil  of  Nazareth,  and  in  the  silent 
solitudes  of  the  wilderness.  So,  in  the  sense 
of  Thy  continual  presence,  shall  my  way  be 
uniformly  great,  and  the  events  of  the  wayside 
shall  be  startlino-  no  more.  All  life  shall  be 
alike  solemn  when  I  have  learned  that  I  am 
ever  with  Thee.  I  shall  cease  to  live  by  the 
impressions  of  the  hour  when  every  breath 
of  my  being-  comes  to  me  as  a  gift  Divine. 


LXIV. 

HUMAN  UNREST. 

"As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water  broola,  so  pajttetk 
my  soul  after  Thee,  O  God." — Ps.  xlii.   i. 

All  things  live  in  their  own  element — the 
cattle  on  the  plain,  the  hsh  in  the  sea,  the 
bird  in  the  air.  Thy  element  is  God.  Thuu 
art  the  only  creature  in  this  universe  that 
art  not  now  in  thine  element  ;  thou  art  an 
anomaly  in  the  order  of  creation.     The  spar- 


152  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

row  hath  an  house  and  the  swallow  a  nest  for 
herself,  but  thou  longest,  faintest ;  thou  hast 
not  found  a  resting-place  in  all  the  tabernacles 
of  time.  Thou  art  the  least  happy  of  all 
creatures.  The  bird  carols  in  the  air  all  the 
day,  but  thou  hast  not  a  day  quite  undiramed 
by  tears.  Why  is  it  thus  with  thee  ?  Where- 
fore art  thou  less  happy  than  the  beast  of  the 
field  ?  Is  it  because  thou  hast  fewer  resources  ? 
Nay,  it  is  because  thy  resources  are  greater, 
because  they  are  too  great  for  the  world  that 
environs  thee.  It  is  because  thou  art  not 
living  in  thine  element,  and  the  element  in 
which  thou  livest  is  not  adequate  to  thy 
powers.  Thou  hast  capacities  for  boundless 
flight,  and  thou  art  chained  within  a  limited 
area ;  thou  art  made  for  God,  and  thou  art 
narrowed  to  the  dust.  No  wonder  thou  art 
not  happy  ;  it  is  thy  greatness  makes  thee 
unhappy.  If  thou  hadst  been  a  bird  of  the 
air  thou  wouldst  have  carolled  like  him,  but 
because  thou  art  more  thou  hast  no  unclouded 
song.  And  yet  thou  wert  made  for  song. 
Thou  wert  not  only  made  for  song  in  a  future 
vorld,  thou  wert  designed  for  it  here.     Thou 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  153 

art  promising  thyself  joy  iti  regions  beyond 
the  grave,  but  the  only  element  that  can  give 
thee  joy  is  on  both  sides  of  the  grave.  Thy 
joy  is  God,  and  God  is  here  as  well  as  there. 
The  atmosphere  of  the  Divine  surrounds  thee 
now.  Thou  needst  not  wait  for  death  to  reach 
it ;  thou  canst  soar  into  it  at  any  moment. 
Say  not  that  others  have  their  portion  here, 
but  that  thou  hast  thy  portion  hereafter  ;  is 
not  thy  portion  eternity,  and  is  not  eternity 
now  as  well  as  then  1  Thy  portion  is  here, 
my  soul, — on  the  threshold  of  thy  life,  at  the 
door  of  thy  being  ;  it  is  in  the  earth,  though 
it  is  not  of  the  earth.  Why  shouldst  thou 
pant  any  more  ?  The  river  that  makes  glad 
the  city  of  God  can  make  glad  the  cities  of 
men.  Thou  canst  find  thine  element  as  easily 
as  the  hart  findeth  the  water  brooks.  "  Ho, 
every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the 
waters." 


154  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


LXV. 

THE  FIGHT  OF  FAITH. 

'^  By  little  and  little  I  will  drive  thetn  out  from  before 
thee." — P2xoD.  xxiii.  30. 

Is  my  life,  then,  to  be  a  perpetual  warfare  % 
Is  it  only  by  little  and  little  that  I  am  to  con- 
quer my  spiritual  foes  ?  I  thought  that  in 
cominor  to  Christ  I  was  comins^  to  the  end  of 
struggle  ;  did  He  not  say,  "  Come  unto  me  all 
ye  that  labour,  and  I  will  give  you  rest "  ?  Yet 
here  it  would  seem  as  if  the  coming  to  Him 
were  the  promise  of  war.  Yes,  but  the  two 
promises  do  not  contradict  each  other.  The 
rest  which  He  offers  thee  is  a  rest  not  from 
struo-sle  but  in  struo^ojle.  He  has  a  higher 
gift  for  thee  than  the  mere  cessation  from  life's 
battle  :  His  gift  to  thee  is  the  power  to  fight. 
Knowest  thou  not  that  the  first  fruit  of 
the  Divine  life  within  thee  is  the  sense  of 
struggle  and  the  power  of  struggle.  There 
is  no  warfare  in  spiritual  death  any  more  than 
in  natural  death  ;  it  is  the  calm  of  the  scpul- 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  155 

chre.  But  the  rest  of  God  comes  to  break  tlie 
calm  of  the  sepulchre.  The  rest  of  God  is  love, 
and  love  is  labour.  Perfect  love  is  perfect 
power  of  labouring ;  comp)leted  love  is  com- 
plete strength  for  ladenness.  Thy  struggle  is 
itself  thy  victory.  Hast  thou  pondered  the 
meanino^  of  these  words  of  Paul,  "  In  all  these 
thing  we  are  more  than  conquerors  "  ?  What 
things  is  he  speaking  of  ?  "  Tribulation,  dis- 
tress, persecution,  famine,  nakedness,  peril, 
sword."  Should  we  not  have  expected  him  to 
have  said,  "  Over  all  these  things  we  are  more 
than  conquerors  "  ?  Yes,  had  he  meant  to  say 
so  :  but  that  was  not  the  thou2jht  in  his  mind. 
Paul  was  not  thinkinsf  of  how  we  should  get 
rid  of  tribulation  and  persecution,  but  of  how 
tribulation  and  persecution  would  make  us 
strong.  It  was  not  the  freedom  from  tlie 
struofo-le,  but  the  moral  exercise  of  the  struo-o-le 
that  caused  his  heart  to  triumph ;  therefore  he 
was  not  afraid  to  say,  "  I')i  all  these  things  we 
are  conquerors."  *'  Blessed  are  they  that  are 
persecuted,"  says  a  greater  than  Paul.  Why 
does  He  close  the  beatitudes  with  such  a 
blessing  as  this  ?    Just  because  it  is  the  fit  tin  cr 


iS6  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

crown  of  all.  It  is  much  to  be  poor  in  spirit, 
to  be  meek,  to  be  merciful,  to  be  peaceable, 
to  be  pure  in  heart — but  to  be  all  these  things 
throuofh  struo-Q^le,  this  is  holiness  indeed.  There- 
fore  hi/  little  and  little  God  will  drive  out  thy 
foes.  He  will  not  rob  thee  of  the  moral  health 
of  struggle  by  granting  thee  a  sudden  triumph. 
Day  by  day  He  shall  renew  the  exercise  of 
thy  patience,  the  trial  of  thy  faith,  the  proof 
of  thy  love,  the  test  of  thy  temper,  the  train- 
ing of  thy  will.  Day  by  day  He  shall  grant 
thee  a  fresh  field  to  conquer,  a  new  victory 
to  win,  till  ill  the  calm  of  conscious  strength 
thou  shalt  be  able  to  say,  "  Thou  preparest 
a  table  before  me  in  the  presence  of  mine 
enemies." 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  157 

LXVI. 

THE  RECOGNITION  OF  CHRIST. 

**  He  7i'as  hiow7i  of  thaji  tfi  breaking  of  breads 
— Luke  xxiv.  35. 

Men  have  often  asked  whether  the  departed 
will  be  recoijnised.  The  risen  Son  of  Man  is 
recognised  by  that  in  Him  which  was  most 
humble  and  most  Imman.  We  should  have 
thouo-ht  that  the  token  of  recoQ^nition  would 
have  been  selected  from  the  least  human  parts 
of  His  life.  We  should  have  thought  that 
He  would  have  been  recognised  by  the  glory 
of  the  transfiguration  mount,  or  by  the  old 
splendours  of  the  miraculous  power.  But  it 
is  not  so ;  that  which  connects  His  life  in 
heaven  with  His  life  on  earth  is  just  the 
lowliest  path  that  on  earth  He  ever  trod — the 
path  of  sacrifice,  the  hour  of  humiliation  : 
"  He  w\as  known  of  them  in  breakinor  of 
bread." 

Wouldst  thou  meet  and  recognise  thy  risen 
Lord  ?   then  must  thou   follow  the  disciples' 


158  MOMEXTS  ON  THE  MOLWT. 

w;iy.  Thou  caust  not,  any  more  than  they, 
meet  Him  by  a  flight  of  ecstasy,  tliou  canst 
not,  any  more  than  they,  find  Him  by  a  recoil 
from  tlie  human.  It  is  only  in  the  sacrifice 
for  man  that  thou  shalt  discover  the  Sou  of 
Man ;  it  is  only  in  the  breaking  of  the  bread 
that  Christ  shall  be  made  known  to  thee. 
Did  not  He  tell  His  disciples  that  when  He 
was  risen  from  the  dead.  He  would  go  before 
them  into  Galilee  and  invite  them  to  meet 
Him  there  ?  And  why  into  Galilee  ?  Be- 
cause Galilee  was  the  re2:ion  of  the  sliadow  of 
death,  the  place  for  the  breaking  of  bread. 
Thee,  too,  He  asks  to  meet  Him  in  Galilee. 
Wouldst  thou  have  a  vision  of  the  risen  Lord  ? 
then  thou  must  go  down  into  the  valley  of 
His  humiliation.  Wouldst  thou  see  Him  as 
He  is  ?  then  thou  must  be  like  Him  in  sacri- 
ficial spirit.  That  side  of  His  being  which 
heaven  has  not  changed  is  just  the  side  that 
is  most  human  ;  He  keeps  the  mark  of  the 
nails,  He  remains  a  high  priest  for  ever.  If 
thou  wouldst  know  Him,  it  must  be  through 
that  priesthood ;  if  thou  wouldst  recognise 
Him,  it  must  be  through  the  mark  of  the  nails 


MOMENTS  ON   THE  MOUNT. 


159 


borne  in  tliiiie  own  body.  If  thou  slialt  break 
the  bread  to  the  hungry,  if  thou  shalt  help 
the  fatherless  and  the  orphan,  if  thou  shalt 
lift  the  erring  and  the  fallen,  if  thou  shalt 
give  beauty  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy  for 
mourning,  the  garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit 
of  heaviness,  then  thou  art  bearing  about  in 
thy  body  the  dying  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  Thy 
spirit  is  His  spirit,  thy  life  is  His  life,  thy 
love  is  His  love,  and  by  the  power  of  a  kin- 
dred sympathy  thou  knowest  His  love  to  thee ; 
thou  shalt  recognise  Him  by  that  net  whereby 
He  recognises  thee — the  breaking  of  bread. 


i6o  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


LXVIT. 

THE  STAGES  OF  SPIRITUAL  REST. 

"  Jnd  Noah  removed  the  covering  of  the  ark,  and  looked^ 
and  behold,  the  face  of  the  ground  was  dry.  And  in 
the  second  month,  on  the  sa'cn  and  twentieth  day  of 
the  mo7ith,  was  the  earth  di-ied.  And  God  spake  unto 
Noah,  saying.  Go  forth  of  the  ark,  thou  and  thy  laife, 
and  thy  sons,  and  thy  sons'  waives  wi.'h  thee." — Gen. 
viii.  13-16. 

There  are  Llnec  kinds  of  spiritual  rest  in  this 
world — the  rest  of  outlook,  the  rest  of  ex- 
perience, and  the  rest  of  action.  They  are 
progressive  in  their  order.  First  of  all  there 
comes  to  me  a  time  when  the  covering  of 
my  ark  is  removed,  and  I  am  permitted  to 
look  out  upon  the  waters.  The  flood  has  not 
ceased,  but  the  face  of  the  ground  is  dry.  It  is 
as  yet  only  a  rest  of  outlook,  a  prophetic  rest, 
a  promise  of  rest  to  come,  yet  even  as  such  it 
is  beautiful.  Faith  sees  in  advance  of  experi- 
ence, and  tells  that  Ararat  is  at  hand.  Then 
there  conits  to  me  a  second  rest — the  rest  of 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  i6i 

experieuce  itself;  the  earth  itself  is  dried,  and 
my  ark  reposes  in  the  very  midst  of  the  world. 
It  is  a  wondrous  advance  on  the  rest  of  out- 
look ;  I  was  then  tossing  even  amid  the  vision 
of  hope,  I  am  now  calm  in  experience  oF  dry 
land.  Yet  one  stage  is  wanted  to  make  me 
perfect  ;  I  am  still  within  my  ark,  and  there- 
fore still  separate  from  the  world,  I  must  be 
able  to  rest  outside  of  my  ark,  I  must  be  able 
to  be  calm  in  the  midst  of  that  very  world 
which  once  constituted  my  flood ;  my  triumph 
is  complete  when  God  says  to  my  soul,  "  Go 
forth  of  tlie  ark." 

0  Thou  who  art  the  true  Ararat,  the  true 
rest  of  my-  spirit,  perfect  Thy  rest  in  me. 
Give  me  the  outlook  of  faith  whereby  I 
shall  anticipate  the  coming  glory,  and  see  the 
dayspring  ere  yet  it  is  dawn.  Give  me  the 
calm  of  experience  whereby  I  shall  repose 
within  my  ark,  even  though  the  voices  of  the 
world  are  around  me,  the  power  to  keep  amid 
change  Thy  peace  that  passeth  understandino-. 
Give  me  yet  one  more  boon,  and  that  the 
highest  of  all — the  power  to  go  forth  from  the 
ark  itself  and  to  rest  in  the  very  wurk  of  the 


1 62  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

world.  My  rest  is  not  complete  until  it  is 
rest  in  action,  my  peace  is  not  perfect  until 
it  is  Thy  peace — the  peace  that  could  endure 
under  the  shadow  of  a  cross.  Give  me  Tliy 
Divine  power  to  sleep  amid  the  storm,  to  be 
calm  amid  the  turmoil,  to  be  restful  where 
the  world  finds  unrest.  Then  shall  I  be  able 
to  dispense  with  my  ark  of  seclusion.  I  shall 
go  out  to  meet  the  flood,  and  its  waters  shall 
not  overwhelm  me.  I  shall  have  liberty  to 
mingle  in  the  scenes  that  once  would  have 
been  my  destruction.  I  shall  have  streugth 
to  meet  the  pleasures  that  once  would  have 
drowned  my  soul.  My  life  of  faith  shall  be 
my  life  of  perfect  freedom  in  that  hour  when 
Thou  shalt  say  to  my  spirit,  "  Go  forth  of  the 
ark." 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  163 

LXVIIT. 

THE  ROAD  TO  GREATNESS. 

"  So  7uhen  they  had  dined,  Jesus  saith  to  Simon  Peter, 
Simon,  son  0/ Jonas,  loves t  thou  me  more  than  these! 
He  saith  unto  Him,  Yea,  Lo7-d ;  Thou  knoivest  that  I 
love  Thee.  He  saith  unto  him,  Feed  my  la??ibs." — 
John  xxi.  15. 

"LovEST  thou  me  more  than  these  love  me?" 
It  is  ail  appeal  to  the  oklest  instinct  of  Peter's 
nature — his  desire  to  be  first.  The  root  of 
his  whole  bein^:  had  been  ambition.  Even  in 
his  approach  to  his  Lord  there  had  been  a 
consciousness  of  self,  a  thirst  for  superiority,  a 
desire  that  his  coming  should  be  singled  out 
from  the  approaches  of  all  other  men.  "  Bid 
me  that  I  come  to  Thee  on  the  waters  " — tbat 
had  been  the  motto  of  his  life.  What  was  he 
that  he  should  be  bidden  more  than  John 
or  James  or  Nathaniel  ?  But  the  instinct  for 
superiority  was  in  the  man,  and  he  could  not 
help  it.  And  now  it  is  to  this  instinct  that 
our  Lord  appeals,  "  Lovest  thou  me  more 
than  these  love  me  ?  '  is  there  the  old  wish  to 


164'  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

be  first.  But  observe  the  new  revelation 
which  the  Lord  makes  to  the  old  instinct, 
"  Feed  my  lambs."  It  is  as  if  he  said  :  Peter, 
thou  hast  been  pursuing  a  wrong  road  to  great- 
ness ;  he  that  is  least  shall  be  greatest  of  all. 
Wouldst  thou  be  spiritually  the  most  con- 
spicuous of  the  band  1  Then  must  thou  be 
the  least  proud,  the  most  self-forgetting. 
Thou  must  come  down  to  feed  the  very  lambs 
of  the  flock.  Thou  must  descend  into  the 
lowliest  valleys  of  the  w^orld.  Thou  must  lose 
through  the  very  power  of  thy  love  all  sense 
of  thine  own  power.  Thou  must  forget  thine 
interest  in  the  interest  of  the  lives  beneath 
thee,  thou  must  be  oblivious  of  thy  wants  in 
feeling;  the  huns^er  and  the  thirst  of  other 
souls,  thou  must  take  no  thought  for  thyself 
through  the  pressure  of  the  one  great  thought 
— the  burden  of  humanity,  the  bearing  of  my 
cross. 

0  Thou  that  hast  emptied  Thyself  of  Thy 
glory,  and  by  Thy  humiliation  hast  conquered 
the  world,  help  me  to  be  great  like  Thee  tn 
Thee.  Give  me  Thine  own  spirit  of  self- 
forgetfulness,  that  I  may  be  inspired  with  the 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  165 

power  of  love.  Teach  me  to  lose  self-will,  tliat 
I  may  be  strengthened  by  a  higher  will.  Let 
my  life  be  buried  in  the  love  of  Thee,  hid  in 
the  sense  of  Thy  presence,  absorbed  and  lost 
and  overshadowed  in  Thine  all-excelling  glory. 
Then  in  Thy  cross  shall  I  reach  Thy  crown, 
and  Calvary  shall  become  my  Olivet.  My 
enthusiasm  of  self-forgetfulness  shall  be  the 
greatness  of  my  power,  my  loss  shall  be  my 
gain,  my  death  shall  be  the  strength  of  my 
life.  When  I  feel  that  I  have  nothinof  I  shall 
indeed  possess  all  things  ;  when  I  am  least 
conscious  of  myself  I  shall  be  strongest  of  all. 
Teach  me  to  feed  Thy  lambs. 


LXTX. 

THE  DARK  THINGS  OF  LIFE. 

"  Jle  discovereth  deep  things  out  of  darkness,  and  bringeth 
out  to  light  the  shadoiv  of  death" — Job  xii.  22. 

The  things  which  give   us  most  evidence  of 
God  are  just  the  dark  things  of  life;  this  was 


i66  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

the  ex[)erieiice  of  the  man  wlio,  of  all  others, 
knew  most  of  life's  dark  tliino-s.  And  what 
Job  learned  by  his  sorrow  we  are  all  learning 
— that  the  cross  is  our  crown,  that  the  rejected 
stone  is  the  head  of  the  corner.  Thou  art 
seeking  light  on  the  life  beyond  the  grave — 
light  that  shall  dispel  the  gloom  of  death  and 
turn  back  its  shadow.  But  it  does  not  occur 
to  thee  that  the  shadow  of  death  is  itself  to 
be  the  lioht  that  thou  seekest.  "  He  briuo-eth 
out  to  light  the  shadow  of  death,"  says  Job, 
— causes  illumination  to  come  from  the  very 
source  which  threatened  to  shut  it  out  for 
ever.  It  is  from  thy  vision  of  death  that 
there  comes  to  thee  the  clearest  sio-ht  thou 
hast  of  immortality.  Hast  thou  not  seen  how 
often  at  the  eveninor  time  there  has  been  lio^ht? 
Hast  thou  not  marked  how,  when  the  outer 
man  was  perishing,  the  inner  was  renewing 
day  by  day  ?  Hast  thou  not  beheld  how, 
when  flesh  and  heart  fainted  and  failed,  when 
the  silver  cord  was  being  loosed  and  the 
golden  bowl  was  nearly  broken,  the  eye  of 
faith  grew  preternaturally  bright,  and  the 
heart    of   love   preternaturally   strong  ?     And 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  167 

in  that  preternatural  brightness  thou  didst 
learn  that  earth  was  not  all,  that  there  was 
something  which  could  still  live,  yea,  which 
could  vividly  live  even  when  the  old  nature 
had  been  overshadowed.  It  was  out  of  the 
shadow  that  thy  hope  came,  it  was  death  that 
revealed  the  power  of  a  higher  life. 

My  soul,  do  not  despise  the  shadows  of  life. 
Do  not  say  that  they  are  exceptions  to  the 
proof  of  Divine  Intelligence  ;  do  not  exclaim 
wlien  they  are  passing  over  thee  that  thy  way 
is  bid  from  the  Lord.  These  shadows  are  sent 
to  thee,  not  as  hidings,  but  as  revelations  of 
the  face  of  God  ;  they  come  to  thee  as  mes- 
sengers of  light.  They  tell  thee  what  thou 
couldst  not  know  without  them — that  there  is 
a  life  strono^er  than  the  natural  life.  How 
couldst  thou  learn  that,  if  the  natural  life 
never  failed  thee  ?  How  could  faith  begin 
if  sight  were  perfect  ?  How  could  trust  exist 
if  there  were  no  darkness?  It  is  the  darkness 
that  lijxhts  thee,  it  is  from  the  shadows  that 
thy  spiritual  nature  is  illuminated.  From  the 
sense  of  human  emptiness  thou  reachest  that 
prophetic  hunger  which  is  certain  to  be  filled; 


l68  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

thy  life  rises,  phoenix-like,  from  the  ashes  of 
thy  dying,  and  out  of  thy  deepest  darkness 
God  says,  "  Let  there  be  light." 


LXX. 

THE  ARM  OF  THE  LORD. 

"  JV/io  hath  Ih  lieved  our  7-eport  1  and  to  whom  is  the  arm  of 
the  Lord  revealed  ?  For  He  shall  groiu  up  before  Him 
as  a  tender  plant,  and  as  a  root  out  of  a  dry  ground." 
— IsA.  liii.  I,  2. 

The  prophet  believed  himself  to  be  speaking  a 
paradox,  a  thing  which  no  man  would  natu- 
rally credit.  And  so  he  was.  Who,  indeed, 
would  naturally  believe  that  the  arm  or  power 
of  the  Lord  could  be  revealed  in  tliat  which  all 
men,  in  all  times,  have  associated  with  power- 
lessness  ?  We  seek  for  the  revelations  of 
God's  power  in  the  strong  things  of  life — in 
battle,  lightning,  and  tempest,  in  thunder, 
earthquake,  and  fire.  But  we  do  not  seek  for 
them  in  the  endurance  of  life's  privations — in 
the  struggling  growth  of  the  tender  plant,  or 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  169 

in  the  root  that  springs  from  a  dry  ground. 
These  are  to  us  the  synibols  of  powerlessuess ; 
we  say,  the  arm  of  the  Lord  is  not  there. 
Yet,  to  the  eye  of  the  prophet,  it  is  just  in 
these  tilings  that  God  shows  His  arm ;  the 
hio-hest  revelation  of  His  might  is  in  the  aentle- 
ness  of  Him  who  grew  up  as  a  tender  plant. 
Is  it  not  so  to  us  too  ?  What  is  to  thee  the 
mifrhtiest  sisfn  of  God  in  this  world  ?  is  it 
not  the  life  of  Him  who  had  jDow^er  to  lay 
doivii  His  life.  What  is  to  thee  the  strono-est 
manifestation  of  will  in  this  world  ?  is  it  not 
the  strength  of  Him  who  said,  "  Not  as  I 
will,  but  as  Thou  wilt."  What  is  to  thee  the 
greatest  exhibition  of  unweariedness  in  this 
world  ?  is  it  not  the  exhaustlessness  of  that 
love  which  cried,  "  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that 
labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest." 

0  Thou  Divine  power  which  men  called 
weakness,  reveal  Thine  arm  to  me.  Reveal  to 
me  the  omnipotent  strength  that  was  uncon- 
sciously eulogised  in  the  words,  *'  He  saved 
others  ;  Himself  He  cannot  save."  The  world 
thought  it   was  a  sign   of  impotence,  but    it 


I70  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

was  strength  unspeakable,  such  strength  as 
belonged  only  to  Thee.  That  inability  of 
Thine  was  the  greatest  force  in  this  universe — 
the  power  of  love.  It  was  the  power  of  Thy 
love  that  made  Thee  powerless  to  save  Thyself, 
that  would  not  let  Thee  turn  aside  from  the 
narrow  road  and  the  dolorous  way,  that  im- 
pelled Thee  to  tread  the  garden  and  to  climb 
the  cross.  0  strong  Son  of  God,  whose 
strength  was  to  say,  "  I  cannot  save  myself," 
be  that  strens^th  also  mine  ;  reveal  Thine  arm 
in  me,  as  well  as  to  me.  Make  me  strong  to 
bear  the  cross,  to  despise  the  shame,  to  endure 
contradiction  against  myself,  to  prefer  the 
narrow  path  of  duty  to  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world  and  their  glory.  Make  me  strong  to 
trample  self  under  my  feet,  to  surrender  my 
will  to  Thy  will,  to  yield  up  my  spirit  to  the 
crucifying  hand  of  love  ;  then  shall  I  know 
what  that  saying  meaneth,  "  The  power  of 
God  unto  salvation." 


MOMEXrS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  171 

LXXI. 

SPIRIT  UA  L  A  DM  IRA  TION. 

"  When  7c>e  shall  see  Him,  there  is  no  beauty  that  7C'e 
should  desire  I  Jim.'''' — Isa.  liii.  2, 

The  boundary  between  spiritual  death  and 
spiritual  life  is  admiration.  Between  seeing 
the  beauty  without  desiring  it  and  seeing  the 
beauty  ivitli  desire  there  seems  but  a  thin  line, 
but  it  is  the  line  of  infinitude  ;  it  is  the  difi'er- 
ence  between  the  almost  and  the  altosfether. 
Admiration  of  Christ's  beauty  is  the  lowest 
step  of  the  ladder,  but  it  is  a  step.  It  may 
exist  where  the  deeds  of  life  are  not  yet  in 
harmony  with  its  ideal,  but  it  is  the  prophecy 
of  the  future  perfection,  the  pledge  of  good 
things  to  come.  My  soul,  bethink  thee,  that 
which  thou  admirest  must  be  allied  to  thyself. 
Thou  couldst  not  possibly  admire  if  it  had 
nothing  in  common  with  thee.  Like  can  only 
be  known  by  like  ;  love  cannot  be  recognised 
by  selfishness,  nor  can  the  face  of  purity  be 
beheld  by  moral  dcba.^ement.     Therefore  it  is 


172  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

tliat  the  words  are  written,  "  Without  holi- 
licss  ijo  man  shall  see  the  Lord."  It  is  not 
a  threat ;  it  is  the  statement  of  a  divine  law 
which  is  also  a  human  law.  Thou  canst  not 
see  anything  which  is  not  already  in  thee. 
Thou  canst  not  see  beauty  if  thou  hast  not  the 
sense  of  beauty,  thou  canst  not  hear  music  if 
thou  hast  not  the  thrill  of  harmony,  thou  canst 
not  love  virtue  if  thou  hast  not  the  germ  of 
goodness.  If,  when  Jesus  of  Nazareth  passeth 
by,  thou  hast  felt  a  glow  of  admiration,  a 
longing  to  be  like  Him  and  a  thirsting  to 
be  near  Him — by  that  admiring  glow  thou 
knowest  that  already  He  has  been  with  thee. 
Thou  couldst  not  kindle  at  His  presence  if 
His  presence  were  alien  to  thine,  thou  couldst 
not  imitate  His  likeness  if  conformity  to  His 
imafje  had  not  even  now  beojun.  All  imitation 
is  the  fruit  of  some  likeness ;  it  does  not 
precede  but  follow  the  conformity  of  nature. 
That  to  which  thou  aspirest  is  the  shadow  of 
something  already  hidden  in  thy  heart,  and  it 
is  this  that  makes  thine  aspiration  precious. 
In  the  longing  of  thy  heart  for  Him  the  Son 
of    Man    beholds    Himself   in    thee ;    in    the 


MOMESTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  173 

approach  of  thy  spirit  to  Him  He  learns  thai 
His  Spirit  has  drawn  near  to  thee.  The 
beauty  by  which  thou  seest  Him  is  His  own 
beauty,  the  love  with  which  thou  longest  for 
Him  is  His  own  love,  the  light  by  which 
thou  seekest  Him  is  His  own  light.  Thy 
longing  is  the  measure  of  thee,  tliy  conscious 
want  is  the  test  of  thy  possibilities,  thine 
aspiration  is  the  prophecy  of  thy  stature  ;  the 
beauty  of  the  Lord  is  in  thee  when  thou  hast 
seen  and  desired  His  beauty. 


LXXII. 

THE  PROVIDENCE  OF  SORROW. 

"  He  knoweth  thy  walkijig  t/iroiegh  this  great  wilder?iess." 
— Deut.  ii.  7. 

Is  there,  then,  a  Providence  so  individual  as 
that  ?  Is  there  a  Divine  knowledfre  extendino- 
even  to  the  greatness  of  my  solitude,  to  the 
uttermost  loneliness  of  tliat  walk  throuofh 
which  I  seemed  to  travel  in  the  valley  of 
death's  sliadow.     That  was  of  all  others  tJie 


I7-^  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

time  when  I  thouo-lit  mvsclf  to  be  walkini]: 
alone.  The  wilderness  was  very  vast  and 
very  dreary,  and  in  the  midst  of  its  vastness 
and  its  dreariness  my  life  appeared  to  me  bnt 
as  a  vapour  and  vanity.  My  God  seemed  to 
have  passed  by  on  the  other  side,  and  I  cried 
out  from  dawn  to  evening  that  my  way  was 
hid  from  Him.  And  yet  at  that  very  time  it 
was  all  known — my  wilderness  and  its  vast- 
ness and  its  dreariness.  When  I  thought  that 
my  way  was  hid  in  the  obscurity  of  a  desert, 
the  very  steps  of  my  walk  through  that  desert 
were  being  marked  and  numbered.  Where- 
fore should  I  have  ever  doubted  it  ?  Looking 
back  from  the  conquered  land  of  promise  I 
can  see  that  the  wilderness  was  no  accident, 
no  separation  from  the  plan  of  God.  I  can 
see  that  the  hour  when  I  seemed  to  be  most 
distant  from  the  Father's  eye  was  just  the 
hour  in  which  He  was  in  closest  contact  with 
my  soul.  My  wilderness  was  my  garden  ; 
there,  unknown  to  me  but  not  unknown  to 
Him,  the  seeds  were  being  sown  that,  in  the 
land  of  promise,  were  to  become  trees  of 
righteousness.      There,   in  what    appeared   to 


MO:\IESTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  175 

me  the   silence  and   the  solitude,    the   chords 
of   my   heart   were   being    strung    for  richest 
music,  and  the  pulses  of  my  heart  were  being 
quickened  for  social  life — the  life  of  the  city 
of  God.      It   was  to  me  what    it    was    made 
to   my   Lord — the   middle  way  between   two 
glories.     It  separated  the  glory  of  my  past 
from  the  glory  of  my  future.     Behind  me  lay 
the  waters  of  Jordan,  where  I  saw  the  opened 
heavens  ;  before  me  lay  the  glorified  feast  of 
Cana,  where  the  water  of  life  was  to  be  made 
wine.     And  the  desert  was  between  ;  the  old 
was  left  behind,   and   the  new  had  not  yet 
come.      Yet  the  desert   was  better   than  the 
old,  and  it  was  leading  to  the  new.     It  had 
shut  me  out  from  the  romance  of  Jordan  that 
it  mio"ht  teach  me  how  real  and  earnest  was 
life's  struggle,   and  in  the   very   reality   and 
earnestness  it  was  preparing  me  for  the  city  of 
God.     Therefore  my  walk  through  the  wilder- 
ness was  a  walk  with  Him.     He  was  leading 
me  all  the  time  by  green  pastures  and  quiet 
waters ;   the   Lord  was  in   that   place  and    I 
knew  it  not.     Where  shall  I  build  my  monu- 
ment of  deepest  gratitude  ?      Not  amid   the 


176  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

flowers  shall  I  raise  it,  not  amid  the  days 
when  the  glitter  of  life  was  around  me,  not 
even  amid  the  hours  when  the  first  fervour  of 
a  new  life  burst  upon  me,  but  amid  the  silence 
and  the  solitude  and  the  struo^ale  of  that 
wilderness  journey,  where,  for  the  first  time, 
I  felt  my  iiothingness,  because,  for  the  first 
time,  I  had  felt  the  power  of  God. 


Lxxiir. 

THE  SONG  OF  SACRIFICE. 

"  Sacrifice  and  offering  Thou  didst  not  desire ;  mine  ears 
hast  TJioii  opened.  .  .  .  Then  said  /,  Lo,  1  come. 
.  .  .  I  ddighl  to  do  2hy  will,  O  my  God."— Vs.  xl. 
6-8. 

"  Mine  ears  hast  Thou  opened,"  It  is  as  if  the 
Psalmist  had  cauGjlit  the  sound  of  a  far-off" 
strain  of  music,  a  music  of  preternatural  love- 
liness. It  is  as  if  he  said,  I  hear  what  I  never 
heard  before — a  song  in  whose  tones  there  is 
not  a  chord  of  sadness,  in  whose  melody  there 
is   not   a  note   of  gloom,   but   only  praise — 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  177 

unqualified,  incessant  praise.  And  what  was 
the  burden  of  this  new  song  to  which  the 
Psahnist  listened  with  open  ears  ?  It  was  the 
voice  of  One  as  yet  far  distant,  but  who  was 
drawing  ever  nearer  with  a  new  messao^e  to 
the  soul.  And  the  messagje  which  He  was 
foreshadowing  was  this  :  Ye  men  of  Israel,  I 
tell  3'ou  that  there  is  a  time  coming  when 
there  shall  be  no  more  pain.  Your  religion  is 
now  all  pain  together;  you  are  serving  God 
with  sacrifice,  with  fear,  with  trembling. 
There  is  no  joy  in  your  approach  to  the 
Infinite  Glory  ;  your  very  gifts  are  wrung 
from  you,  and  you  value  what  you  give  by 
your  difficulty  in  giving  it.  But  I  am  coming 
to  reveal  to  you  a  more  excellent  way — not  to 
abolish  the  gift,  but  to  abolish  the  sacrifice.  I 
am  coming  to  give  to  your  Father  in  heaven  a 
donation  that  in  all  the  years  He  has  never 
received  before — the  delight  of  a  human  heart. 
I  am  coming  to  yield  up  to  His  service  a 
tribute  which  was  never  before  thought  to  be 
in  a  servant's  power  to  give — the  offering  of  a 
free  will,  the  surrender  of  a  voluntary  life.  I 
will  not  offer  my  pain  but  my  joy.     You  have 

M 


178  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

yielded  up  to  your  Fullier  ouly  the  cries  of 
tortured  victims ;  I  shall  yield  up  in  your 
behalf  a  life  whose  constant  dying  shall  be 
its  constant  song  of  praise.  "  Lo,  I  come :  I 
delight  to  do  Thy  will,  0  my  God." 

Son  of  Man,  Thou  who  hast  ushered  in  this 
day  of  painless  worship,  help  me  to  enter  into 
Thy  joy.  Breathe  on  me  that  I  may  receive 
the  same  Divine  Spirit — the  spirit  of  surren- 
der without  sense  of  sacrifice.  Teach  me  day 
by  day  that  what  my  Father  wishes  is  not  my 
Gethsemane,  but  my  will  ;  not  my  experience 
of  suflferiug,  but  my  power  to  rejoice  in  Him  in 
spite  of  my  experience  of  suffering.  Reveal  to 
me  that  my  sacrifice  is  never  perfect  in  my 
Father's  sight  until  in  the  view  of  my  spirit 
it  is  a  sacrifice  no  more.  Then  and  only  then 
shall  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  made  comform- 
able  unto  Thy  death,  to  have  fellowship  with 
Thy  suffering,  to  be  in  communion  with  Thy 
cross.  I  shall  learn  that  dying  is  life,  that 
loss  is  gain,  that  perfect  sacrifice  is  fulness  of 
joy.  There  shall  be  no  more  deatl),  there 
shall  be  no  more  pain,  there  shall  be  no  more 
tears,  for  the  former  things  shall  have  passed 


MOME.XTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  179 

awa}',  when  tiiroiigli  Tliy  Spirit  I  «liull  be 
able  to  pay,  "  I  delight  to  do  Thy  will,  0 
my  God." 


LXXIV. 

CHRISTIAN  FREEDOM. 
*^  The  perfect  la-cv  of  liberty." — J  as.  i.  25.  ■ 

Law  aud  liberty.  To  the  natural  mind  these 
are   the  OTeatest  contrasts  in  the  world.     To 

o 

the  heart  of  youth  liberty  presents  itself  as  the 
breakino-  of  law.  The  tempter  comes  to  the 
young  man  and  says,  Why  are  you  not  free?  it 
is  an  unmanly  thing  to  be  constantly  under 
restraint ;  come,  break  your  fetters,  and  be 
master  of  yourself.  That  is  the  voice  of  sin  to 
every  opening  life,  and  it  is  a  plausible  voice  ; 
it  promises  a  thing  which  we  all  value  and 
which  we  all  ouoht  to  value — freedom.  It 
ofifers  to  give  us  that  very  boon  which  Christ 
expressly  came  to  give — liberty.  But  now 
observe  the  difference  between  the  mode  of  the 
tempter  and  the  mode  of  the  Divine  Master. 


i8o  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

The  tempter  says,  You  will  be  free  by  hreaJcing 
the  law  ;  Christ  says,  You  will  be  free  by  jj^r- 
fecting  the  law.  Ponder  these  words  of  the 
Apostle,  "  The  perfect  law  of  liberty."  He 
says.  So  far  is  restraint  from  being  the  enemy 
of  freedom,  it  is  the  ivaiit  of  restraint  that  pre- 
vents perfect  freedom ;  if  law  were  perfect,  if 
it  were  only  sufficiently  binding,  if  it  could 
only  obtain  an  undivided  mastery  over  your 
soul,  you  would  instantaneously  be  free — free 
as  the  winds  of  heaven,  free  as  the  child  at 
play. 

My  soul,  dost  thou  marvel  at  this  doctrine  ? 
Dost  thou  not  know  that  perfect  law  is  love, 
and  that  where  the  spirit  of  love  is  there  is 
liberty  ?  Before  love  comes,  the  law  is  not 
perfectly  thy  master ;  it  is  only  without  thee. 
But  when  love  comes,  the  law  has  possessed 
thee  altogether ;  it  has  taken  thy  citadel, — 
the  heart.  And  this  possession  is  thy  perfect 
freedom.  Thou  art  never  free  in  any  pursuit 
until  the  love  of  that  pursuit  has  mastered 
thee.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  thy  will  breaks 
forth  into  spontaneous  action,  and  thy  heart 
rejoices  in  the  voluntary  choice  of  its  labour. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  l8i 

Thy  most  glorious  moment,  the  moment  in 
which  the  charter  of  thy  freedom  is  for  ever 
signed,  is  in  the  hour  when  thou  art  compelled 
to  say,  "  I  cannot  help  it,"  the  hour  when  love 
has  become  such  a  necessity  of  thy  heart,  such 
a  law  of  thy  life,  that  thou  hast  no  longer  any 
choice  but  to  obey.  The  compulsion  of  thy 
heart  is  thy  perfect  freedom  ;  when  love  shall 
take  thee  prisoner,  captivity  itself  shall  be 
taken  captive.  0  golden  chain,  0  glorious 
servitude,  0  free  necessity,  be  thine  my  free- 
dom evermore.  Take  possession  of  my  heart, 
my  reason,  my  understanding,  my  will.  En- 
throne Thyself  in  the  empire  of  my  being, 
that,  in  Thy  sense  of  mastery,  I  may  learn  for 
the  first  time  what  it  is  to  be  free,  and  know 
wliat  it  is  to  be  at  rest.  When  I  shall  take 
Thy  yoke  upon  me,  I  shall  find  rest  unto  my 
soul,  for  the  yoke  of  Thy  love  is  perfect  joy, 
and  the  law  of  Thy  life  is  perfect  liberty. 


i82  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


LXXV. 

THE  PRESERVATION  OF  PERSONALITY  IN  THE 
CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 

"  77/(7/  CjOi:^  max  be  all  in  alir — i  CoR.  xv.  28. 

Am  I,  tlien,  to  be  lost  in  God  %  Is  my  M'hole 
personal  life  to  be  absorbed  and  overshadowed 
in  the  life  of  the  Infinite  One  %  Am  I  to  have 
no  more  separate  being  than  one  of  tliose 
myriad  drops  which  compose  the  vast  ocean  % 
If  so,  then  my  goal  is  death  indeed.  If  my 
personality  is  to  melt  into  the  being  of  God  as 
a  cloud  melts  into  the  blaze  of  sunshine,  then, 
surely,  is  God  not  my  life  but  my  annihilation. 
He  can  no  longer  say  of  me,  "  Because  /  live, 
thou  shalt  live  also."  Nay,  but,  my  soul,  thou 
hast  misread  the  destiny  of  thy  being.  It  is 
not  merely  written  that  God  is  to  be  all,  but 
that  He  is  to  be  all  in  all.  His  universal  life 
is  not  to  destroy  the  old  varieties  of  being  ;  it 
is  to  pulsate  through  these  varieties.  His 
music  is  to  fill  the  world,  but  it  is  to  sound 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  183 

tliroiioli  all  the  varied  instruments  of  the 
world.  His  sunsliine  is  to  Hood,  the  universe, 
hut  it  is  to  be  mirrored  in  a  thousand  various 
forms.  His  love  is  to  penetrate  creation,  but  it 
is  to  be  reflected  in  the  infinite  diversities  of 
the  hearts  and  souls  of  men.  Thou  sj^eakest 
of  losing  thj'self  in  the  ocean  of  His  love,  but 
this  is  only  poetically  true.  Love  is  an  ocean 
where  no  man  permanently  loses  himself;  he 
regains  himself  in  richer,  nobler  form.  The 
only  ocean  in  which  a  man  loses  himself  is 
self-love  ;  God's  love  gives  him  back  his  life 
that  he  may  keep  it  unto  life  eternal.  Thou 
art  not  thyself  until  thou  hast  found  God. 
Wouldst  thou  truly  behold  thyself?  then  must 
thou  with  open  face  behold  as  in  a  glass  His 
glory.  Thou  wilt  never  become  a  power  to 
thyself  until  God  has  become  all  in  thee  ;  thou 
wilt  never  really  live  until  thou  hast  lived  in 
Him.  Forget  thyself,  my  soul.  Forget  thy 
pride  and  tliy  selfishness,  thy  cares  and  thy 
crosses,  thy  world  which  thou  bearest  within 
thee.  Unbar  the  doors  of  thy  being  to  the 
sunshine  of  that  other  Presence  that  already 
stands  without,  waiting  to  get  in.     And,  verily, 


1 84  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

thy  forgetfulness  shall  muke  thee  strong,  thy 
surrender  shall  make  thee  mighty,  thy  dying 
unto  self  shall  make  thee  alive  for  evermore. 
Thy  form  shall  be  beautiful  when  it  is  gilded 
by  His  light,  thy  voice  shall  be  melodious 
when  it  is  tuned  by  His  music,  thy  heart 
shall  be  on  fire  when  it  is  quickened  by  His 
love ;  thou  shalt  be  everything  when  God 
shall  be  all. 


LXXVI. 

ADAPTATION. 


"He  Jiaih  made  every t hi nq  beinitifiil  in  His  time^ 
— EccLES.  iii.  1 1. 

What  !  everything  ?  sorrow  and  trial,  and  pri- 
vation and  weariness,  and  struggle  ?  Surely 
these  are  not  the  thins^s  w^hich  one  would  call 
beautiful,  and  surely  much  of  life  has  been 
made  up  of  these  ?  Yes,  but,  my  soul,  God 
has  made  even  these  things  for  thee,  and  He 
has  made  them  to  contribute  to  thy  beauty. 
There  is  a  time  in  which  sorrow  is  beautiful  as 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  185 

there  is  a  time  in  which  childhood  is  beautiful, 
as  there  is  a  time  in  which  winter  is  beautiful. 
It  is  the  time  that  justifies  the  sorrow  ;  its 
beauty  lies  in  its  seafeonableness.  Is  it  not 
written  that  when  the  fuhiess  of  time  was 
come  God  sent  His  Son — sent  into  this  world 
the  greatest  manifestation  of  a  cross  which 
the  world  has  ever  seen  ?  It  was  the  fulness 
of  the  time  that  justified  the  fulness  of  the 
sorrow,  that  made  the  fulness  of  the  sorrow 
beautiful.  Tlie  world  had  reached  that  staoje 
of  hardness  which  needed  to  be  crucified,  and 
therefore  the  crucifixion  came.  It  came  not  a 
day  too  soon,  nor  a  day  too  late  ;  it  was  the 
act  suited  to  the  hour,  it  was  beautiful  in  its 
time.  So,  my  soul,  has  it  ever  been,  shall  it 
ever  be,  with  thee.  God  never  sends  His 
cross  into  thy  heart  until  thy  heart  is  abso- 
lutely ripe  for  it,  until  it  is  the  only  fruit 
that  would  fit  thy  year.  Thou  speakest  of 
the  adaptations  of  nature,  and  verily  all 
adaptation  is  beautiful.  Thou  sayest  that  the 
eye  was  made  for  sunshine,  that  the  ear  was 
made  for  melody,  that  the  heart  was  made  for 
joy.       Yea,    but    there    are    times    in    which 


1 86  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

the  eye  was  made  for  (.lavkness,  there  are 
times  in  which  the  ear  was  made  for  discord, 
there  are  times  in  which  the  heart  was  made 
for  sorrow.  If  thou  ki'iewest  the  time  of  thy 
visitation  it  would  be  to  thee  the  best  and 
costliest  of  all  thy  Father's  gifts.  Thinkest 
thou  that  the  wilderness  is  an  accident  ?  It 
is  that  which  prevents  accident,  which  keeps 
thee  from  becoming  a  sjjontaneous  flower  of 
the  field.  It  is  that  which  forces  thee  to  hold 
thy  virtue  as  a  conscious  possession.  It  sends 
clouds  into  thine  understanding  that  tliine 
understanding  may  become  faith.  It  sends 
temptation  into  thine  innocence  that  thine 
innocence  may  become  purity.  It  sends  be- 
reavement into  thy  heart  that  thy  heart  may 
become  awake  to  its  infinite  power  of  loving. 
If  thou  wert  a  plant  the  calm  would  to  thee 
alone  be  beautiful,  but  because  thou  art  a 
man  thou  hast  need  also  of  the  storm.  One 
day  thou  shalt  bless  God  for  the  cloud  as  well 
as  for  the  sunshine  ;  He  has  made  them  both 
beautiful,  each  in  its  time. 


MOMENJS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  187 


LXXVIL 

THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  SOUL. 

"  ^nd  the  house  luJien  it  was  in  huilaing,  was  Inii't  of  if  one 
711  ade  fcady  before  it  was  broitg/it  thilJier :  so  that  there 
was  neither  Jtamnicr  nor  axe  nor  any  tool  of  iron  heard 
in  the  house  while  it  was  in  building."' — i  Kings 
vi.  7. 

One  would  tLink,  from  sucli  words  as  these, 
that  tliere  was  110  room  for  struo-ole  in  the  re- 
ligious  life,  nor  in  the  conversion  into  that  life. 
The  whole  building  grows  up  softly,  silently, 
almost  mystically,  and  we  are  tempted  to  feel 
as  if  there  were  no  sympathy  in  that  temple 
with  the  wrestling  of  our  hearts.  Nay,  but 
hast  thou  forootten  that  the  struo-o-le  was  all 

o  00 

past  ere  ever  the  building  was  begun  ?  Hast 
thou  forgotten  that  the  stone  was  "  made 
ready  before  it  was  brought  thither  ?  "  What 
a  world  of  meaning  lies  unspoken  in  that  little 
clause  ?  Before  these  stones  came  into  unity 
they  all  existed  in  individual  separation,  in 
isolation,    in    solitude.       Before    they    passed 


iS8  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

into  the  stao-e  of  silent  buildino-  tliev  bad  each 
to  go  through  a  process  of  uoise  and  couflict, 
had  each  to  be  hewn  iuto  symmetry  with  its 
pLace  ill  the  coming  temple.  There  is  a  great 
unrecorded  battle  of  the  spiritual  life  hinted 
at  in  this  making  ready ;  it  is  but  a  flash  of 
thought,  but  it  is  a  flash  that  lights  up  our 
whole  experience  and  reveals  us  to  ourselves. 
It  tells  us  that  the  silence  is  not  the  first  but 
the  last  thing,  that  there  is  a  making  ready 
for  the  symmetry  ere  the  symmetry  is  reached. 
It  tells  us  that  Saul  of  Tarsus  has  his  struo-ole 
ere  the  light  from  heaven  breaks  upon  his 
view — that  conflict  where  he  finds  it  so  hard 
to  kick  against  the  goads.  It  tells  us  that 
Nicodemus  has  his  solitary  w^alk  by  night  ere 
he  can  take  up  the  dead  Christ  from  the 
shadow  of  the  cross  —  that  solitary  vs^alk 
wherein  he  feels  deserted  by  the  old  and  not 
yet  convinced  by  the  new.  And  marvellously 
comfortino;  is  this  messag-e  which  it  brings  to 
many  a  struggling  soul.  Art  thou  perplexed 
by  thine  inward  disquietude  ?  Art  thou 
tossed  upon  a  sea  of  doubt  and  wrapt  in  a 
mist  of  uncertainty  ?     Art  thou  experiencing 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  189 

the  accusations  of  a  conscience  that  speaks 
louder  and  louder  every  day  ?  Say  not  that, 
therefore,  there  is  no  place  for  thee  within  the 
silence  of  the  mystic  temple  ;  it  is  just  there- 
fore that  there  is  a  place  for  thee.  This 
struggle  of  thine  is  thy  making  ready.  This 
loudness  of  thy  conscience  is  the  hewing  of 
thy  hardness  into  symmetry — the  symmetry 
that  will  fit  thee  to  be  a  stone  in  the  temple 
of  Christ.  Thy  solitude  is  not  the  neglect  of 
thee,  thy  struggle  is  not  the  absence  of  thy 
God  from  thee  ;  it  is  the  eye  of  thy  God  upo7i 
thee.  He  has  taken  thee  up  to  the  wilderness 
that  He  may  make  thee  ready.  All  the  paiu 
He  sends  thee  is  the  sign  of  His  interest  in 
thee,  the  proof  that  He  is  preparing  thee  for 
the  symmetry  of  the  temple  of  peace.  Thy 
wilderness  is  the  vestibule  into  thy  heaven. 
Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul. 


I90  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


LXXVIII. 

THE  HELP  OF  GOD. 

"  JTe  was  inarvellotisly  helped  till  he  was  strong.^ 
— 2  Chron.  xxvi.  15. 

Theee  are  two  kinds  of  help  in  tbis  world  ; 
there  is  marvellous  help,  and  there  is  natural 
help.  The  marvellous  help  declines  as  the  power 
of  natural  help  grows.  There  is  a  time  when 
we  cannot  help  ourselves,  and  then  everything 
is  provided  for  us  ;  we  are  guided  by  instinct 
as  the  bee  is  guided.  Infancy  is  the  most 
helpless  of  all  periods  so  far  as  our  self-help 
goes,  yet  perhaps  it  is  the  period  of  our  least 
danger.  We  have  then  God's  marvellous  help 
— the  provision  of  maternal  love  and  our  own 
childlike  instinct  of  obedience.  We  are  led 
by  a  thousand  influences,  not  one  of  which  we 
have  foreseen,  not  one  of  which  we  recosfnise 
even  when  it  appears.  But  as  our  natural 
strength  grows,  God's  supernatural  strength 
is  gradually  withdrawn,  and  when   we  have 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  191 

reached     the    promised     land    of   our    human 
nature    tlie    mii'aculous    manna   ceases.      Say 
not   that,   therefore,   God   has   Himself  with- 
drawn ;    remember    that    what    thou    callest 
nature  is  God's  help  also.     When  thou  wert 
young  and  nature  was  weak  He  helped  thee 
marvellously,  supernaturally  ;   when  thou  art 
full-grown  and  nature  is  strong  He  helps  thee 
naturally — co-operates  with    thy   nature,    be- 
comes a  fellow- worker  wdth  thee.     Dost  thou 
see  more  of  the  supernatural  in  the  lower  than 
in  the    human    creation  ?      Say  not    on    that 
account  that  there  is  less  provision  made  for 
man.     It  is  just  the  provision  made  for  man 
that  has  caused  the  manna  to  cease.     Knowest 
thou  how  dear  to  the  heart  of  God   it  is  to 
have  a  fellow-worker  with  Himself — one  that 
feels  what  He  feels,  and  whose  spirit  is  helpino- 
with  His  own  ?     Knowest  thou  how  dear  it  is 
even  to  the  earthly  father  when  he  learns  for 
the  first  time  that  his  being  is  no  longer  super- 
natural  to  the   heart  of  his  child,  when,  for 
the  first  time,  the  heart  of  his  child  works  with 
his  heart,  helps  with  his  help,  strives  witlj  his 
aim,  feels  with  his  desire  ?     That  is  an  earthly 


192  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

father's  joy  because  in  that  hour  he  knows 
that  he  is  uot  supernatural  to  his  child  any 
more,  but  that  their  uatures  are  for  ever  one. 
So  is  it  with  thy  heavenly  Father  when  He 
sees  His  Christ  in  thee  ;  He  reaches  then  the 
true  parental  joy.  'Tis  then  He  knows  that 
the  partition  wall  is  broken  between  Him  and 
thee,  that  heaven  and  earth  have  met  together. 
'Tis  then  He  knows  that  He  no  longer  stands 
over  thee  as  a  lawgiver,  or  dictates  to  thee  as 
a  sovereion,  for  He  beholds  thee  stronsj  with 
His  strength,  natural  with  His  nature,  able  to 
work  with  Him,  because  His  spirit  has  become 
thine  own.  Hapj)y  art  thou,  my  soul,  when 
thy  strength  shall  be  so  perfected  to  thy 
Father's  eye  that  He  shall  send  thee  no  more 
the  help  that  is  marvellous,  but  shall  ask  thee 
to  work  with  Him  in  that  human  helpfulness 
which  is  the  life  of  Christ. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  193 


LXXIX. 

DIVINE  EDUCATION 

"  /  faug/if  Epln-aim  also  to  go,  iakifig  them  by  their  arms  ; 
but  they  knew  not  that  I  healed  them." — Hosea  xi.  3. 

Thou  sajest  that  this  world  is  a  scene  of  proba- 
tion ;  no,  it  is  not,  it  is  a  place  of  education. 
God  has  placed  thee  here  not  to  prove  thee  but 
to  teach  thee — to  hold  thee  by  the  arms  untd 
thou  shalt  learn  to  walk.  What  need  to  put 
thee  into  the  world  to  prove  that  by  nature 
thou  canst  not  walk  ?  What  need  to  bring 
thee  into  life  only  that  thou  may  est  sit  for 
thy  portrait  and  reveal  thy  blemishes  in  the 
light  of  eternity  ?  If  this  were  all  the  design 
of  thy  being  it  were  indeed  a  waste  of  being. 
Thy  Father  hath  made  thee  for  something 
other  than  that — not  to  prove  thine  impotence 
but  to  train  thy  footsteps,  not  to  reveal  thy 
blemishes  but  to  perfect  thy  beauty.  Thy 
God  is  educating  thee.  Very  beautiful  is  the 
metaphor  by  which  He  describes  His  educa- 


194  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

tion  of  the  world  :  it  is  that  of  a  mother  train- 
ing the  steps  of  her  child.  She  stands  at  a 
seeming  distance  and  says,  "  Come."  She 
stands  at  a  seeming  distance,  but  all  the  time 
the  intervening  space  is  bridged  by  the  arms 
of  love.  There  is  not  a  moment's  break  in  the 
continuity  of  that  grasp  with  which  she  holds 
her  treasure.  She  seeks  but  to  awaken  with- 
in her  child  that  pride  of  new  responsibility 
which  comes  from  the  semblance  of  beinoj 
alone,  to  make  it  feel  as  if  it  luere  independent 
by  the  exercise  of  its  own  power.  Nor  does 
she  tell  it  that  she  is  teaching  it  to  walk.  We 
are  best  taught  when  we  are  taught  uncon- 
sciously. She  tempts  it  towards  her  with  some 
glittering  prize,  some  bright  bauble,  some 
sparkling  reward,  and  the  little  feet  know  not 
that  the  true  prize  is  their  own  healing,  the 
true  reward  their  own  power  of  exercise.  So, 
too,  is  it  with  thy  heavenly  Father.  He 
tempts  thee  on  thy  way,  on  His  way,  by 
something  which  is  not  His  object,  nor  which 
yet  is  thy  goal.  He  shows  thee  a  glittering 
bauble  at  the  end  of  the  way,  and  says, 
"  Come  ;  "   He  tempts  thee  by  a  promised  land 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  195 

into  a  land  that  transcends  the  promise.  Thou 
knowest  not  that  He  heals  thee.  .  T'  secnis  to. 
thee  that  thou  art  being  led  by  liie  green 
pastures  ouly  that  thou  mayest  gather  the 
flowers  of  earthly  pleasure.  Yet  all  the  time 
thou  art  being  conducted  by  a  way  that  thou 
knowest  not  into  a  city  of  habitation  of  which 
thou  dost  not  dream.  Thy  Father's  end  for 
thee  is  better  than  thine  own  end  for  thyself; 
thine  is  only  the  eartljly  Canaan,  His  is  the 
heavenly  Christ.  The  promised  land  thou  art 
seeking  is  at  best  but  poor  and  fleeting,  but  in 
thy  march  towards  it  thou  art  gaining  what 
thou  dost  not  seek — the  lesson  of  a  walk  with 
God. 


LXXX. 

THE  SECRET  OF  THE  LORD, 

"  A  neiu  name  7ii!ittcn,  which  no  man  knoiucth  savitig  he 
that  receh'eth  it." — Rev,  ii.  17. 

There  is  a  secret  word  which  admits  men  into 
the  Christian  society,  but  it  is  a  word  that  is 


196  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

spoken  only  to  the  heart ;  it  is  the  word 
peace.  This  is  the  secret  of  the  Lord  that  is 
with  them  that  fear  Him.  The  peace  of  Christ 
in  the  soul  to  the  eye  of  an  outward  beholder 
is  indeed  a  secret.  He  cannot  explain  it,  he 
cannot  account  for  it,  he  cannot  understand  it ; 
it  seems  to  him  as  if  it  had  no  right  to  be. 
He  sees  men  joyous  where  he  would  be  miser- 
able, restful  where  he  would  be  perplexed^ 
calm  where  he  would  be  appalled,  and  he  asks, 
Whence  is  it  so  ?  There  is  a  peace  which 
does  not  pass  understanding,  which  the  world 
understands  quite  well,  and  can  refer  to  reason- 
able causes.  Wealth,  fame,  rank,  power,  free- 
dom from  the  tossiugs  and  the  heavings  of  the 
great  sea  of  human  trouble,  anchorage  within 
some  earthly  haven  on  which  the  storms  never 
blow — all  this  the  world  can  appreciate  as  a 
source  of  peace.  But  where  riches  are  not, 
where  fame  and  power  are  not,  where  freedom 
from  the  storm  is  not  found,  where  the  haven 
of  anchorage  is  not  known, — there  the  world 
wonders  to  find  unbroken  joy.  It  marvels 
to  see  rest  amid  unrest,  calm  amid  storm, 
light  amid  darkness,   love  amid  shadow,  life 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  197 

amid   death  ;    the  peace   of  Christ  is  to  it  a 
secret. 

My  soul,  it  must  he  a  secret  to  thee  too 
even  after  thou  hast  possessed  it.  Thou 
hearest  the  sound  of  the  wind,  but  canst  not 
tell  whence  it  cometh  ;  so  is  it  with  the  peace 
of  Christ  within  thee.  When  that  peace  is 
within  thee  thou  hast,  indeed,  a  joy,  but  it  is 
a  joy  thyself  dost  not  understand  ;  it  passeth 
even  thy  knowledge.  It  lies  beneath  all 
human  causes,  it  is  independent  of  all  human 
circumstances.  Thou  canst  no  more  tell  why 
thy  heart  shines  than  thou  canst  tell  why  the 
sun  shines ;  it  shines  because  it  has  become 
its  nature  so  to  do.  It  gets  not  its  light  from 
aught  without,  nay,  it  shall  give  its  light  to 
everything  without — even  to  the  shadows.  It 
is  not  kindled  by  the  glow  of  worldly  fortune, 
nay,  it  will  impart  its  own  glow  even  to 
worldly  misfortune,  will  turn  everything  it 
touches  into  gold.  0  Divine  Peace,  that  art  a 
contradiction  to  them  that  know  Thee  not  and 
a  secret  even  to  them  that  know  Thee,  let  me 
be  a  sharer  in  Thy  power.  Let  me  experience 
the  marvel  of  Thy  presence  within  me  without 


198  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

seeking  to  solve  the  niarvel.  Let  me  be  con- 
tent to  be  a  secret  unto  myself,  a  wonder 
to  the  law  of  my  own  being.  Let  me  know 
what  it  is  to  have  the  incomprehensible  joy, 
the  unexplainable  rest,  the  stillness  that  can- 
not be  stirred  though  the  earth  be  removed 
and  the  mountains  be  cast  into  the  depths  of 
the  sea.  Let  me  experience  the  Divine  sleep 
in  the  midst  of  the  waves — the  sleep  that  Thou 
promisest  to  Thy  beloved  ;  so  shall  I  learn 
what  it  is  to  possess  ths  secret  of  the  Lord. 


LXXXL 

IN  THE  HANDS  OF  GOD. 

"  //  t's  a  fearful  ih'utg  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living 
God."—WY.^.  X.  31. 

Yea,  but  it  is  a  more  fearful  thins;  still  not  to 
fall  into  His  hands.  To  fall  into  His  hands 
must  be  pain,  for  the  passage  from  death  into 
life  is  ever  painful.  The  first  sensation  of  an 
infant  is  paii],  just  because  life  has  come  and 
is  in  striio-ole  with  the  old  elements  of  death. 

00 


MOMhNTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  199 

There  is  a  fear  in  all  life  winch  does  not  exist 
in  lifelessncss,  for  the  sense  of  life  is  in  its 
nature  an  awful  thing.  But  wouldst  thou, 
therefore,  rather  be  without  if?  wouldst  thou, 
therefore,  rather  be  a  clod  of  the  valley?  Nay, 
for  the  very  aw^fuliiess  of  the  possession  is 
itself  th}^  glory.  So  is  it  w-itli  thy  spiritual 
life.  When  it  comes  to  thee  it  comes  with  a 
great  sense  of  paiu.  It  wakens  thee  up  to  the 
fearfulness,  to  the  awfulness,  of  being  a  respon- 
sible soul.  It  tells  thee  that  thou  art  in  the 
presence  of  a  law  which  thou  hast  violated, 
that  tljou  art  in  the  midst  of  an  universe  with 
which  thou  art  not  in  unison.  It  quickens 
thee  into  the  knowledge  that  there  is  impurity 
within  thyself,  and  causes  thee  to  cry  out, 
"  0  wretched  man  that  I  am ! "  It  is  only 
when  the  pure  life  comes  that  the  impure  life 
is  revealed.  It  is  oidy  when  the  pure  life 
comes  that  the  impure  life  begins  to  struggle. 
The  struggle  of  thy  soul  is  the  fruit  of  thy 
new  birth.  The  old  life  was  a  stagnant  pool ; 
the  new  is  a  waving  sea.  Its  waves  are  its 
glory,  its  storms  are  the  signs  of  its  higher 
destiny. 


200  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

0  God,  Thou  liviug  God,  let  me  fall  into 
Thy  hands;  it  is  only  in  Thy  hands  that  I  cau 
be  perfectly  safe.  I  know  tbat  to  fall  into 
Thy  hands  is  indeed  a  fearful  thing  ;  I  know 
that  it  is  the  beginning  of  all  my  fears,  for  it 
is  the  beginning  of  all  my  responsibilities. 
In  Thy  hands  I  shall  learn  the  awfulness  of 
my  spiritual  being,  in  Thy  hands  I  shall  learn 
how  little  it  has  fulfilled  its  destiny.  Never- 
theless, it  is  in  Thy  hands  alone  that  I  would 
be ;  the  fear  that  comes  from  contact  with 
Thee  is  indeed  the  beoinniuo^  of  wisdom. 
There  would  be  no  penalty  to  me  so  great  as 
to  fall  out  of  Thy  hands  ;  to  be  out  of  Thy 
hands  is  to  be  dead.  There  is  a  pain  ivith 
Thee,  which  is  not  found  without  Thee,  but  it 
is  the  pain  of  love  which  is  the  pain  of  the 
life  Divine.  Translate  me  into  that  life.  Lift 
me  into  union  with  Thine  own  Divine  being. 
Eaise  me  into  fellowship  with  that  power  of 
Thy  love  which  is  the  power  of  Thy  suffering. 
Take  me  into  Thy  hands  and  hold  me  in  Thy 
fear.  Let  me  learn  in  Thy  life  how  solemn  is 
my  own,  let  me  see  in  Thy  glory  how  poor  is 
my  own.     I  will  not  shrink  from  the  fear  of 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  201 

beholding  in  a  glass  the  image  of  my  moral 
deformity,  if  only  I  know  that  the  glass 
wherein  I  behold  it  has  been  flishioned  by  the 
hands  of  the  living  God. 


LXXXII 

THE  REVEALING  PAST. 
^^  HUherto  hath  the  Lord  helped  tis." — i  Sam.  vii.  12. 

My  Father,  I  am  ever  seeking  from  Thee  a 
new  revelation,  and  I  am  ever  saying  that 
Thou  art  silent.  Yet  it  is  only  my  own  heart 
that  is  silent.  I  am  seeking  Thy  revelation  in 
the  wrong  direction ;  I  am  asking  it  from  my 
future,  and  lo,  it  is  coming  from  my  past. 
The  vision  of  my  past  is  not  a  vision  of  old 
things  ;  they  are  all  renewed  in  the  light  of 
retrospect.  The  newest  of  all  revelations  is 
the  life  of  my  past  when  seen  in  Thee  ;  it  is 
like  the  difference  between  passing  through  a 
landscape  at  night  and  looking  down  upon  the 
same  landscape  from  the  brow  of  the  hill  at 


202  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

moruing.  My  past  is  so  ti'ansfigured  in  retro- 
spect that  I  would  not  have  known  it.  Spots 
that  looked  barren  when  I  was  passinor  tliroiiofh. 
appear  in  looking  back  as  scenes  of  luxuriant 
verdure.  Events  that  seemed  adverse  in  the 
watches  of  the  niglit  are  transformed  by  the 
morninsf  beam  into  messao'es  of  blessinsr. 
Crosses  that  pressed  upon  my  soul  in  wander- 
inof  throuo;h  the  wilderness  are  seen  from  the 
promised  land  to  have  been  exceeding  weights 
of  glory,  and  it  is  almost  with  a  cry  of  surprise 
that  I  exclaim,  "  Hitherto  hatli  the  Lord  helped 
me."  The  marvel  of  Thy  revelation  is  its 
glorification  of  my  rejected  circumstances  ;  the 
stones  which  the  builder  refused  have  been 
made  the  head  of  the  corner.  I  have  oot  more 
from  Thee  than  faith  jn'omised.  Faith  only  pro- 
mised that  Thou  wouldst  help  me  i}i  spite  of 
these  circumstances,  but  lo,  Thou  hast  made 
these  circumstances  themselves  my  helpers. 
Faith  only  promised  that  Thou  wouldst 
deliver  my  soul  from  its  struggles,  but  lo, 
Thou  hast  revealed  to  me  that  my  struggles 
were  themselves  the  agents  of  Thy  deliverance. 
Faith  only  piomiscd  that  notwithstanding  the 


MOMrNiS  O.V   1  \IOUNT.  203 

\vilderness  I  wi>;il  '  be  brought  safely  to  tlie 
land  of  rest,  biu  1  j,  Thou  hast  sliowu  ujc  tiiai 
the  wildenie'^s  was  itself  the  very  portal  to  tuat 
r.tnd.  Th'  'lore,  my  [vast  is  to  me  a  new 
revelation  of  Thyself.  Thou  hast  not  suflereci 
uie  to  see  the  hereafter,  but  Thou  hast  allowed 
■Jie  to  behold  the  hitherto,  and  verily  the 
iiitiiorto  is  glorious.  No  vision  of  the  future 
;.;lury  could  to  me  be  more  wondrous,  more 
cl  ^ine,  than  is  this  siglit  of  the  glory  of  nu' 
past.  I  see  it  from  the  Mount  of  Transfigura- 
lion,  and  it  is  all  new  ;  its  face  is  shining,  its 
garments  are  oiistenim:r.  I  will  raise  a  monu- 
ment  to  the  glory  of  my  past;  I  will  build  ic 
with  the  rejected  stones  that  I  left  despised  b. 
the  wayside,  and  I  will  write  upon  it  the 
record  of  Tliy  guiding  luve,  "  Hitherto  iiati: 
liie  Loid  iicJpud  us." 


204  MOME.'^TS  ON  7 HE  MOUNT. 


LXXXIII. 

THE  ANSWER  TO  CHRISrS  PRAYER. 

"  W/io  in  the  days  of  His  flesh,  ivhen  He  had  offered 
up  prayers  and  supplications,  with  strong  crying 
and  tears,  unto  Him  that  was  able  to  save  Hitn 
from  deatli,  and  was  heard  in  that  He  feared" — 
Heb.  v.  7. 

"Was  heard  in  that  He  feared;"  was  it  so? 
I  had  always  thought  that  His  was  an  un- 
answered prayer.  Did  the  bitter  cup  pass 
from  His  lips  when,  in  the  solitude  of  the 
Gethsemane  shadows,  He  cried  unto  His 
Father  ?  did  there  come  to  Hiiu  that  respite 
from  death  which  seemed  to  be  the  object  of 
His  prayer  ?  Nay,  for  that  was  not  the 
object  of  His  prayer;  that  desire  was  only- 
expressed  conditionally,  "if  it  be  possible, 
let  this  cup  pass  from  me."  But  there  was 
a  desire  in  the  depths  of  His  heart  which  was 
expressed  unconditionally ;  it  was  the  prayer 
that  His  human  will  might  be  one  with  the 
Divine    will.       "  He    was    heard    in    that    He 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  205 

feared,"  ^ajs  the  sacred  writer;  His  fear  was 
the  bcautirul  thing  w^liich  caused  His  prayer 
to  be  accepted.  Fear  is  not  generally  beauti- 
ful, it  is  not  commonly  a  virtue  at  all.  What 
was  there  about  this  fear  of  Jesus  which  made 
it  so  precious  in  the  Father's  sight  ?  It  was 
this — His  was  not  the  fear  of  death,  but  the 
dread  of  human  frailty.  He  was  afraid  lest 
the  weakness  of  the  flesh  should  make  Him 
choose  a  path  diflerent  from  the  path  His 
Father  had  chosen  for  Him.  He  was  afraid 
lest  even  in  desire  He  should  follow  a  road 
less  dolorous  than  that  which  His  Father  had 
prepared,  and  the  strong  crying  of  His  spirit 
came  forth  in  the  earnest  supplication,  "  Not 
as  I  will,  but  as  Thou  wilt."  That  was  the 
prayer  which  His  Father  answered,  and  in  the 
answer  to  that  prayer  the  cause  of  His  fear 
vanished.  The  answer  came  not  in  the  rollinof 
back  of  death  but  in  the  strens^thenino:  of  His 
spirit  for  death,  not  in  the  passing  of  the 
cup,  but  in  the  passing  of  the  bitterness  from 
the  cup;  the  garden  of  Gethsemane  was  con- 
quered when  the  angels  appeared  to  strengthen 
Him. 


2o6  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Son  of  M;iii>  let  me  be  a  sliaver  iu  Thy 
Divine  strength,  f,  too,  have  my  Gethsemaiies, 
where  there  are  shadows  \^•itbout  and  fi-ars 
within  and  solitudes  around.  At  these  times 
my  soul  is  troubled,  and  I  know  not  what  I 
shall  ask.  The  dark  hour  which  has  come  to 
me  may  have  been  the  hour  for  which  I  was 
made,  and  I  dare  not  say  unconditionally, 
"  Father,  save  me  from  this  hour."  But  in 
TJiy  strength,  0  Son  of  Man,  I  shall  have  all 
I  need  and  more.  If  the  Spirit  that  fortified 
Thee  shall  become  my  spirit,  I  shall  be  strong 
with  Thy  Divine  streugth.  Unite  my  will  to 
Thy  will,  that  Thy  experience  may  become 
mine  own.  Help  me  to  learn  of  Tliee,  that 
the  yoke  of  life  may  be  eased  without  being 
diminished,  that  the  burden  of  life  may  be 
lightened  without  being  lessened.  Help  me  to 
experience  that  new  j^ower  of  the  eye  which 
shall  make  it  unnecessary  to  roll  away  the 
clouds  of  night,  that  new  streugth  of  the  arm 
which  shall  cause  it  to  be  unneeded  that  the 
outward  weight  should  be  removed.  Let  me 
learn  of  Thee  that  there  is  an  answer  to  prayer 
which  eye  sees  not,  which  ear  hears  not,  which 


MUMESrS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  207 

bistoiy    recoitls    not,    which    is    received  and 

recorded    only    in    the    silent    depths    of  the 
souL 


LXXXIV. 

FAITH  AND  KNOWLEDGE. 

"  And  we  belii've  and  arc  sure  that  Jhoii  art  iJiat  Christ, 
the  Son  of  the  Ih'ing  God."- — John  vi.  69. 

"  We  believe  and  are  sure  ; "  more  strictly  it 
should  be  rendered,  "  We  have  believed  and 
are  sure."  The  thought  of  the  apostle  is  that 
there  has  been  a  development  in  his  experi- 
ence ;  he  began  b}''  simple  faith,  and  he  has 
ended  with  assured  knowledg^e.  Such  is  ever 
the  order  of  the  Christian  understandino; ;  we 
first  believe,  and  then  we  know.  Faith  is 
not  the  opposite  of  knowledge;  it  is  the  anti- 
cipation, the  prophecy  of  knowledge.  Faith  is 
to  knowledge  what  the  swallow  is  to  the 
summer — the  messeno-er  that  sino-s  its  comino-. 

O  o  O 

Faith  soars  up  to  heaven  in  the  mornino-  and 


2o8  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

sees  ill  advance  the  [ilaii  of  the  unfolding  day. 
It  cannot  yet  trace  the  plan,  it  cannot  yet  tell 
how  the  plan  is  to  be  unfolded,  but  it  beholds 
what  it  cannot  analyse,  it  trusts  what  it  can- 
not verify.  So  was  it  with  the  Master  when 
He  first  said  to  His  disciples,  "  Follow  me." 
Why  should  He  have  hoped  that  they  would 
follow  Him  ?  they  did  not  yet  know  Him. 
But  He  felt  that  they  must  follow  Him  before 
they  knew  Him,  that  they  could  only  come  to 
know  Him  through  the  experience  of  being 
near  Him.  And  so  He  called  upon  another 
faculty  than  knowledge ;  He  appealed  to  the 
power  of  their  faith.  He  said.  Give  me  the 
prophetic  trust  of  your  souls.  I  am  come  to 
lead  you  by  the  green  pastures  and  beside  the 
quiet  waters,  to  let  you  know  by  the  walk  of 
experience  that  the  pastures  of  life  are  green, 
and  that  the  waters  of  life  are  quiet.  But  you 
can  only  come  to  know  it  by  icalhing  with  me. 
You  must  come  to  me  without  knowledge, 
without  proof,  without  experience  ;  you  must 
give  me  your  faith.  Pay  me  with  your  love  in 
advance.  I  do  not  ask  it  without  return  ;  I 
will  repay  its  value  tenfold— in  work,  in  sacri- 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  209 

fice,  but  1  cannot  work  for  you  unless  you  will 
first  let  me  work  through  you.  Grant  me 
your  sympathy  beforehand.  Grant  me  the 
mesmeric  look  of  faith,  that  I  may  fill  your  life 
with  my  presence.  Grant  me  the  steadfast 
gaze  of  the  eye,  that  I  may  transform  you  into 
my  own  image.  Grant  me  the  complete  sur- 
render of  the  will,  that  I  may  make  your 
will  my  will.  When  I  have  made  your  will 
my  will  there  shall  be  no  more  room  for  faith; 
faith  shall  be  lost  in  sight,  and  ye  shall  know 
as  ye  are  known.  Trust  me  but  one  hour 
with  the  treasure  of  your  hearts,  and  with  rich 
interest  I  will  give  them  back  to  you  again  ; 
lend  them  to  me  with  faith,  and  I  will  restore 
them  to  you  with  knowledge — that  knowledge 
of  me  which  is  life  eternal.  In  that  hour  you 
shall  be  able  to  say,  "  Once  we  believed,  now 
we  are  sure." 


210  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


LXXXV. 

A  PROVIDENTIAL  ABSENCE  OF  GOD. 

"  Zazams  is  dead,  and  I  am  glad  for  your  sokes  that  T 
u<as  7!ot  there." — John  xi.  14,  15. 

There  may  be  a  beuevolent  absence  of  God; 
say  rather  there  may  be  an  absence  of  God 
which  is  a  phase  of  His  providential  presence. 
Strange  at  first  glance  read  the  Divine  words, 
"  I  was  glad  that  I  was  not  there."  Glad  for 
what?  Does  He  mean  that  had  He  been  there 
Lazarus  W'ould  not  have  died  ?  Yes,  that  is 
undoubtedly  His  meaning  :  He  says  just  w^ljat 
Martha  said.  He  felt  that  had  He  been  there 
His  human  sympathy  would  have  overcome 
Him,  and  the  stroke  of  death  would  have  been 
averted.  But  why  be  glad  for  th's  ?  Martha 
was  not  glad  of  it,  it  was  the  special  cause  of 
her  sorrow.  Yes,  but  Martha  did  not  see  the 
end ;  she  beheld  only  the  closing  of  the  grave 
over  hor  dead,  not  its  re-opening  to  give  her 
dead   back    auaiii.      He    beheld   what   Martha 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  211 

did  not  behold,  lie  saw  the  posbibilily  of  a 
greater  glory  through  the  suffering  than  could 
be   reached   without  tlie   sufferino-.       He   saw 

O 

that  the  shining  after  rain  would  be  clearer 
than  the  light  that  had  never  been  dimmed 
with  tears,  and  He  rejoiced  in  that  momentary 
absence  of  His  person  which  had  given  to 
His  love  so  much  more  power  to  bestow. 

My  soul,  there  are  times  when  thou  lament- 
est  the  absence  of  any  visible  sign  that  thy 
God  is  near.  There  are  seasons  when  thou 
Driest  in  the  night,  "  Why  art  Thou  so  far 
from  helping  me  ?  "  ''  J\Jy  way  is  hid  from  the 
Lord,  and  my  judgment  is  j^assed  over  from 
mv  God."  Thinkest  thou  that  the  hidino-  of 
His  face  from  thee  comes  from  His  forgetful- 
ness  of  thee  ?  Nay,  but  from  His  very  excess 
of  mindfulness.  His  seeming  absence  is  itself 
a  form  of  His  preseiice,  His  refusal  to  inter- 
vene in  thy  sorrow  is  itself  an  act  of  divinest 
intervention.  Thy  sorrow  is  His  messenger  to 
thy  heart,  and  it  is  a  messenger  of  love.  It 
comes  to  bring  thee  a  greater  glory  than  it 
takes  away.  It  is  sent  to  press  the  flower  of 
life   to   make   it   pour  forth   its   perfume.     It 


212  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

comes  to  break  the  alabaster  box,  but  only  that 
the  frngrance  \Yliicli  it  imprisons  within  itself 
may  be  diffused  far  and  wide  and  fill  the  house 
of  humanity.  Thy  Father  rejoices  that  He  is 
not  there.  He  woul;!  not  interfere  with  that 
which  is  the  discipline,  the  unfolding  of  thy 
heart.  He  would  grieve  to  grant  thee  a  tem- 
porary cessation  of  pain  at  the  expense  of 
a  permanent  loss  of  power.  His  best  gift 
to  thee  has  been  the  absence  of  His  interven- 
ing power.  His  best  answer  to  thee  has  been 
His  refusal  to  interfere  with  the  discipline  of 
thy  human  sorrow.  His  best  love  to  thee  has 
been  His  silence  in  the  night,  when  thou 
madest  thy  petition  that  the  night  might  be 
removed.  One  day  thou  shalt  thank  Him  for 
His  silence,  one  day  thou  shalt  bless  Him  for 
His  passiveness,  one  day  thou  shalt  find  the 
treasures  of  the  night,  and  praise  Thy  Father 
that  He  let  thee  sojourn  there. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  213 


LXXXVI. 

SELF-CO  MM  UNION. 

"  Stand  in  awe,  a?id  sin  not :  commune  7vith  yojir  own 
heart  tipon  your  bed,  and  be  still.  Offer  the  sacrifices 
of  righteousness,  and  pit  your  trust  in  the  Lord." — 
Ps.  iv.  4,  5. 

There  are  four  phases  in  the  birth  of  the 
religious  life — self-awakening,  self-reflection, 
self-help,  and  self-abandonment.  There  is  first 
the  awakening  of  self-life  to  the  presence  of 
another  law,  a  moral  law  which  says,  "  Stand 
in  awe,  and  sin  not."  There  is  secondly  the 
communing  of  the  soul  with  itself,  the  asking 
of  that  momentous  question,  "Am  I  in  har- 
mony with  this  moral  law  1  "  There  is  thirdly 
the  effort  to  reach  that  harmony  by  deeds  that 
shall  create  the  consciousness  of  merit — the 
offering  of  the  sacrifices  of  righteousness. 
Lastly  there  is  the  perception  that  the  con- 
sciousness of  merit  is  itself  a  want  of  harmony 
with  law,  and  the  soul  by  an  act  of  self-forget- 


±14  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

fulness    loses    alike    its    sense    of    merit    and 
demerit  in  the  trust  of  the  living  God. 

My  soul,  wouldst  thou  reach  this  blessed 
conclusion  ?  Wouldst  thou  arrive  at  this  final 
haven  of  moral  peace  where  thy  weakness 
shall  itself  become  thy  strength  ?  Thou 
mayest  arrive  at  it,  but  it  must  be  after  a 
storm — a  storm  whose  peculiarity  shall  be  its 
inaudibleness  to  any  ear  but  thine.  Ere 
thou  canst  reach  the  final  rest  thou  must  enter 
into  communion  with  thyself,  must  examine 
thine  old  nature  in  the  stillness  of  solitude. 
Thine  must  be  a  struQ;o;le  with  thine  own 
thoughts — a  struggle  where  there  is  no  clang 
of  arms,  but  whose  soreness  lies  in  its  very 
silence.  How  still  is  that  communion  which 
thy  God  requires  of  thee !  "  Commune  with 
thine  own  heart ;  "  what  converse  so  silent  as 
that  ?  "  Thine  own  heart ;  "  not  the  heart  of 
another.  The  heart  of  another  would  give 
more  companionship,  but  it  would  give  less 
test  of  truth.  Thou  mightest  compare  thy 
righteousness  with  the  righteousness  of  thy 
brother,  and  go  down  to  thy  house  rejoicing, 
and  yet  all  the  time  thou  mightest  be  in  dis- 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  215 

cord  with  the  moral  law  of  God.  Only  in 
thine  own  heart  canst  thou  see  thyself  truly 
reflected,  therefore  it  is  with  thyself  that  thy 
Father  bids  thee  commune.  "  Commune  upon 
thy  bed  ; "  not  alone  with  thine  own  heart,  but 
with  thine  own  heart  in  the  stillest  locality — 
in  the  silence  of  the  midnight  hour,  where  there 
is  no  distraction,  and  where  there  is  no  decep- 
tion. There  thou  shalt  learn  wdiat  it  is  to  be 
an  individual  soul.  In  the  world  thou  art 
taught  to  forget  this ;  thy  little  life  is 
swallowed  up  in  the  crowd,  and  thy  moral 
good  or  ill  seems  an  indifferent  thing.  But 
here  the  world's  judgment  is  reversed.  When 
thou  art  alone  with  God  the  crowd  melts 
away,  and  thou  art  to  thyself  an  universe. 
Thy  very  sense  of  sin  reveals  to  thee  the 
infinitude  of  thy  being.  Thy  very  moral 
struggle  tells  thee  that  in  spite  of  thyself 
thou  art  an  immortal.  Commune  with  thine 
own  heart,  0  my  soul. 


216  MOMENTS  ON  THE   MOUNT. 


LXXXVII. 

SPIRITUAL  GROWTH. 

' '  I/c  brought  vie  up  also  out  of  an  horrible  pit,  out  of  the 
miry  clay,  and  set  my  feet  upon  a  rock,  and  established 
my  goings.  A7id  He  hath  put  a  new  song  in  7ny 
mouth,  even  praise  unto  our  God :  many  shall  see  it, 
and  fear,  and  shall  trust  in  the  Lord." — Ps.  xl.  2,  3. 

The  Psalmist  is  tracins:  the  staijes  of  his  own 
experience,  the  successive  steps  by  which  he 
climbed  the  mount  of  God.  At  first  it  was 
only  the  deliverance  from  a  dark  past :  "  He 
brought  me  up  out  of  an  horrible  pit,  out  of 
the  miry  ckiy."  It  was  a  stage  of  moral  eleva- 
tion rather  than  of  moral  fixeduess,  a  lifting 
into  the  air,  but  not  yet  the  settling  on  a  rock. 
That  stage  came  secondly.  There  came  a 
time  when  God  set  his  feet  on  a  rock  and 
established  his  goings.  He  was  transported 
from  the  air  to  the  ground,  from  the  flight  to 
the  walk,  from  the  mere  sense  of  liberation  to 
the  principle  of  that  truth  which  made  him 
free.     But  he  was  not  yet  complete  ;  principle 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  217 

is  mere  duty,  it  is  not  yet  love.  The  mind 
may  be  settled  on  a  rock  and  yet  the  heart 
may  be  cold.  He  wanted  not  only  a  path  for 
his  feet  but  a  new  song  for  his  mouth,  and 
that  which  he  wanted  came.  To  the  rigidness 
of  the  rock  was  added  the  heart  of  joy  :  "He 
hath  put  a  new  song  in  my  mouth,  even  praise 
unto  our  God."  One  other  step  remained  to 
crown,  to  culminate  the  life ;  the  Psalmist 
must  relinquish  the  thought  of  himself,  even 
the  thought  of  his  own  progress.  He  must 
come  to  value  his  spiritual  joy,  not  so  much 
for  what  it  is  as  for  what  it  can  do.  He  must 
come  to  see  that  the  glory  of  his  salvation  is 
its  power  to  be  the  salvation  of  others ;  his 
life  will  be  complete  when  he  shall  say, 
"  Many  shall  see  it,  and  fear,  and  shall  trust 
in  the  Lord." 

My  soul,  that  progress  must  be  thine  also. 
Marvel  not  that  thou  art  not  instantaneously 
in  possession  of  the  fulness  of  joy ;  there 
is  much  to  be  done  within  thee  ere  the  new 
song  shall  come.  Thine  must  at  first  be  only 
the  sense  of  deliverance,  of  emancipation  from 
the  pit  and  from  the  mire.    The  weaning  from 


21 8  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

the  old  does  not  at  once  bring  the  joy  of  the 
new.  Thou  mayest  come  even  to  rest  on  the 
settled  rock  without  an  immediate  entrance 
into  tliut  joy  ;  the  power  of  duty  may  make 
thee  strong  without  yet  making  thee  buoyant. 
But  the  hour  of  love  is  at  hand,  and  will  not 
tarry — the  hour  when  the  walk  of  the  feet 
shall  be  accompanied  by  the  song  of  the  heart. 
Thy  table  is  spread  at  first  in  the  presence  of 
thine  enemies,  and  thy  path  of  principle  seems 
a  path  of  sternness,  but  ere  long  law  shall  be 
lost  in  love,  and  thy  cup  shall  overflow.  Thy 
cup  shall  overflow  in  most  abundance  when 
thou  thyself  shalt  overflow.  Thou  shalt  find 
thy  deepest  peace  when  thou  hast  forgotten 
its  presence  in  the  care  for  interests  not  thine 
own,  and  thy  new  song  shall  reach  its  full 
melody  when  its  joys  shall  be  this :  "  Many  shall 
See  it,  and  fear,  and  shall  trust  in  the  Lord." 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  21Q 


LXXXVITI. 

THE  PROMISE  OF  HE  A  VEN. 

"  T//y  Spir  it  is  good :  lead  me  info  the  land  of  Jipright- 
ness." — Ps.  clxiii.  10. 

How  beautiful  is  this  thought  of  the  Psalmist  I 
There  is  a  harmony,  he  says,  between  our 
powers  and  our  destiny.  Goodness  must  lead 
to  the  land  of  goodness.  Is  not  this  thought 
of  the  Psalmist  thy  purest  natural  hope  of 
immortality?  Thou  art  conscious  within  thee 
of  great  moral  yearnings — yearnings  which 
this  world  cannot  fill.  Thou  feelest  in  thy 
heart  aspirings  which  thy  hand  cannot  reach, 
ideals  which  thy  life  cannot  realise,  resolves 
which  thy  will  cannot  execute.  Are  not  these 
aspirings  the  voice  of  the  Spirit  within  thee  ? 
Yea,  verily,  and  yet  they  are  little  more 
than  prophetic  voices.  How  little  hast  thou 
achieved  of  those  aspirings  even  in  thy  best 
moments,  how  little  hast  thou  reached  of  those 
ideals  even  in  thy  highest  flights  !  There  is  a 
law  in  thy  members  warring  against  the  law 


2  20  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

of  tliy  miiKl,  and  the  weakness  of  tliy  flesh 
refuses  to  endorse  the  will  of  thy  spirit.  Is, 
then,  the  voice  of  God  within  thee  a  delusion  ? 
Nay,  it  is  a  prophecy.  It  reveals  within  thee 
more  than  thou  canst  embody  without  thee, 
but  even  so  it  predicts  the  advent  of  a  higher 
power.  Thy  desire  for  goodness  outruns  thy 
capacity,  yet  it  is  the  forerunner  that  tells  that 
a  larger  capacity  is  coming.  Is  thy  moral 
nature  alone  to  be  without  its  goal  ?  Is  every- 
thing to  be  provided  for  but  thine  aspirings 
after  the  beauty  of  holiness  '?  Earth  has  filled 
all  other  capacities  wath  employment  and  with 
enjoyment.  This  alone  is  unsatisfied  here. 
Surely  it  shall  be  satisfied  elsewhere,  surely  it 
shall  be  abundantly  satisfied  with  the  goodness 
of  God's  house  and  with  the  river  of  His 
pleasures.  Everywhere  but  in  thy  heart  there 
are  heard  already  the  full  echoes  of  His  praise, 
but  within  thy  heart  praise  yet  luaiteth  for 
Him.  Thou  art  as  yet  only  a  promise  to 
thy  Maker,  only  a  promise  to  thyself — a  prim- 
rose in  the  cold,  a  dawn  amid  the  shadow^s  of 
the  East.  Yet  the  promise  is  made  by  some- 
thing higher  than  thee — even  the  Spirit   of 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  221 

truth  tliat  is  within  thee.  Thy  spring  demaiuls 
a  summer,  thy  dawn  is  the  pledge  of  a  day. 
The  Spirit  of  God  is  good,  therefore  He  shall 
lead  thee  into  the  land  of  u^^rightness. 


LXXXIX. 

THE  GLORY  OF  DIVINE  LOVE. 

"  T/ic  glory  as  of  the  only  hegotle7i  of  the  I-'ather,  full  of 
grace  and  truth.''' — John  i.  14. 

To  be  full  of  grace  and  truth  was  indeed 
a  glorv.  It  was  the  meetings  of  two  things 
which  in  the  souls  of  men  are  antaofonistic 
to  one  another.  There  are  souls  which  easily 
bestow  grace,  which  find  it  not  hard  to  for- 
give, but  they  have  often  a  dim  perception 
of  the  majesty  of  that  truth  which  has  been 
violated.  There  are  souls  which  have  a  clear 
perception  of  the  majesty  of  truth  and  a  deep 
sense  of  the  sin  that  swerves  from  it,  but  they 
are  often  inexorable  in  their  justice  and  unable 
to  pardon ;  they  have  more  truth  than  grace. 


222  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Here  there  is  a  perfect  blending*  of  extremes-— 
fulness  of  grace  united  to  fulness  of  truth. 
There  is  a  forgiveness  which  is  valueless 
because  there  is  no  sense  of  wrong ;  there  is  a 
sense  of  wrons^  which  is  forbidding  because 
there  is  no  power  of  forgiveness.  Here  perfect 
forgiveness  is  joined  with  perfect  perception. 
The  glory  of  Christ's  love  is  that  it  comes  not 
from  darkness  but  from  light  ;  He  forgave  the 
sinner  because  He  bore  the  sin.  Never  was 
His  forgiveness  so  complete  as  when  He  bore 
His  fullest  witness  to  the  awful  truth.  When 
did  He  cry,  " Father,  forgive  them:  they  know 
not  what  they  do  "  ?  Was  it  when  He  began 
to  think  lightly  of  a  violated  law  ?  Nay,  it 
was  when  the  violated  law  was  pressing  upon 
His  soul,  and  the  reproach  of  sin  was  breaking 
His  heart.  His  love  was  born  of  His  pity,  and 
His  pity  was  born  of  His  purity.  He  felt 
that  we  had  already  lost  what  He  called  our 
souls.  He  saw  us  blind  in  a  world  of  lii-ht, 
deaf  in  a  world  of  music,  cold  in  a  world  of 
warmth,  heartless  in  a  world  of  love,  dead  in 
a  world  of  life,  and  He  lifted  up  His  eyes  and 
cried:  "Father,  I  am  clouded  in  their  darkness, 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  223 

Cfive  tlicm  liolit  :  I  am  wounded  in  their 
sorrow,  give  tliem  joy  ;  I  am  pierced  in  their 
coldness,  give  them  warmth ;  I  am  crucified  in 
their  death,  give  them  life  eternal."  0  Son  of 
Man,  that  was  Thine  hour  of  glory.  There, 
as  in  tints  of  blended  rainbow,  met  colours 
that  before  had  been  disjoined — righteousness 
and  peace,  justice  and  forgiveness,  penalty  and 
pardon,  the  sentence  of  death  and  the  mes- 
sage of  life.  Heaven  and  earth  met  together, 
judgment  and  mercy  embraced  each  other  in 
the  fulness  of  Thy  glory.  The  hour  of  sin's  con- 
demnation was  the  hour  of  a  world's  redemp- 
tion.    Grace  and  truth  stood  side  by  side. 


xo. 

STUBBORN  SINS. 


"  Howheit  this   kind  gocth   not  out  but  by  prayer  and 
fasting.^' — Matt.  xvii.  21. 

There    are   temptations   in   the   human    soul 
which  are  not  easily  extinguished,  which  can 


224  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

ouly  be  extinguisliecl  tlirough  a  process  of 
pain.  There  are  sins  which  may  disappear  in  a 
moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  at  the 
Wast  of  God's  trump  of  judgment.  Saul,  who 
yesterday  was  walking  in  darkness,  may  see 
to-day  a  light  above  the  brightness  of  the  sun, 
and  in  an  instant  the  old  life  may  fall  and 
a  new  life  may  rise.  But  Saul's  temptation 
came  from  ivithin,  and  was  therefore  sooner 
reached  by  the  Spirit.  There  are  temptations 
which  come  from  without,  which  are  given  to 
the  soul  by  its  union  with  the  body.  These 
are  they  which  ofttimes  cast  the  man  into 
the  fire  and  ofttimes  into  the  water;  these 
are  they  which  make  him  lunatic  by  destroy- 
ing the  force  of  his  will.  And  these  are  they 
which  go  not  out  except  by  prayer  and  fast- 
ing. Prayer  alone  will  not  do ;  prayer  gives 
but  the  grand  resolution  to  abstain,  but  resolu- 
tion, if  not  followed  by  action,  fades  in  the  light 
of  morning.  Fasting  alone  will  not  do  ;  fast- 
ing is  but  the  abstinence  of  the  flesh,  but  the 
abstinence  of  the  flesh  is  weariness  without 
the  consent  of  the  spirit.  The  old  habits  of  a 
man's  life  may  not  vanish  in  the  moment  of 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  225 

liis  conversion.  If  thou  liearest  him  confess 
Christ  to-day,  and  seest  him  act  wrongfully 
to-morrow,  do  not  say  that  he  was  therefore 
a  hypocrite.  "Did  not  I  see  thee  in  the 
garden  with  Him  ?  "  is  what  thou  shalt  have  to 
ask  of  many,  but  do  not  thence  conclude  that 
the  garden  was  a  delusion.  The  flowers  that 
are  planted  in  Gethsemane  rise  slowly,  and 
they  grow  through  struggle.  There  are  dark 
and  rainy  days,  there  are  bleak  and  tem- 
pestuous nights,  there  are  seasons  of  pro- 
tracted cold '  which  forbid  the  seed  spon- 
taneously to  spring.  Give  thy  charity  to  the 
struggling  soul.  Give  to  its  prayer  and 
fasting  thy  prayer  and  thy  fasting.  Forbear 
to  use  thy  full  liberty  until  thy  weak  brother 
also  shall  be  free.  Thou  art  able  to  go  unhurt 
through  all  the  world,  but  thy  brother  cannot 
yet  go  with  thee  ;  limit  thyself  for  him,  fast 
for  him.  Thinkest  thou  that  this  is  weak- 
ness ?  Hast  thou  not  read  of  One  who  said, 
not  alone  of  His  liberty  but  of  His  life,  "  I 
have  power  to  lay  it  down  "  ?  It  is  not  weak 
to  be  like  Christ ;  it  is  strong — infinitely 
strong.       Thou  ari   thy  brother's  keeper,  let 


226       MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Cain  say  as  he  will.  Thine  is  a  Divine  charge 
— the  charge  of  God,  the  charo-e  of  ans^els,  the 
charge  of  being  a  ministering  spirit  sent  forth 
to  the  heirs  of  salvation.  Keep  that  which 
thy  Father  hath  committed  unto  thee  untU 
the  liberation  day. 


XCT. 

THE  STRUGGLE  SUCCEEDING  LIGHT. 

"  Buf  call  to  remembrance  the  former  days,  in  zahich,  after 
ye  7vere  illuminated,  ye  ejidnred  a  great  fight  of  afflic- 
tions."— Heb.  X.  32. 

"  After  ye  were  illuminated."  Surely  that 
was  a  strange  time  for  the  birth  of  conflict. 
I  thought  that  the  cominej  of  lioht  was  the 
signal  for  the  end  of  war.  I  thought  tliat 
when  the  heart  was  lighted  up  by  the  Spirit 
of  Christ,  there  must  of  necessity  be  a  termina- 
tion to  all  darkness.  Yes,  but  for  that  very 
reason  there  must  be  a  temporary  experience 
of  pain — a  pain  which  was  foreign  to  the  un- 
regenerate  heart.      It  is  a  glorious  thing  to  be 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  227 

illuiinnated,  but  its  first  glory  lies  in  this, 
that  it  shows  me  my  past  misery.  When  the 
Divine  lamp  is  lighted  in  the  room  of  my 
human  nature,  it  lets  me  see  how  poorly  that 
room  is  furnished.  For  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  am  pained  with  myself,  I  fight  with 
myself.  Before  that  time  I  was  perfectly 
satisfied  ;  it  was  the  satisfaction  of  ignorance. 
I  did  not  see  my  poverty  ;  there  was  no  light 
in  the  room.  But  now  that  the  lioht  has 
come,  it  has  taken  away  my  false  rest ;  it  has 
set  me  at  war  with  myself;  it  has  made  me 
dissatisfied  with  my  surroundings ;  it  has 
caused  me  to  cry,  "  0  wretched  man  that  I 
am  !  who  shall  deliver  me  from  this  body  of 
death  ? " 

0  Thou  Spirit  of  light,  I  wait  for  Thee.  I 
wait  for  Thee,  knowing  that  when  Thou 
comest  Thou  shalt  come  with  a  gift  in  Thy 
hand  which  the  world  would  rather  want — 
the  gift  of  pain.  I  know  that  when  Thy 
light  shall  rise  within  me  the  joy  of  the  new 
vision  shall  be  chequered  by  the  sight  of  the 
old  corruption.  I  know  that  when  Thy  power 
shall  dawn   within   me  there   shall  be  stirred 


228  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

within  my  heart  the  fires  of  a  conflict  to  which 
it  now  is  stranger,  for  Thy  new  law  in  my 
mind  shall  reveal  the  old  law  in  my  members. 
But  I  would  rather  have  Thy  presence  with 
the  pain  than  Thine  absence  without  it. 
Come  into  my  heart  with  Thy  Divine  fire, 
that  all  its  base  alloy  may  be  purified.  Pour 
into  my  spirit  Thy  burning  love,  that  I  may 
awake  more  and  more  to  the  sense  of  mine 
own  lovelessness.  Breathe  into  my  conscience 
Thy  quickening  power,  that  I  may  feel  more 
and  more  the  depth  of  mine  own  depravity. 
Inspire  into  my  soul  the  vision  of  Thy  Divine 
beauty,  that  I  may  learn  more  and  more  how 
poor,  how  mean,  how  worthless  is  this  natural 
life  of  mine.  I  will  begin  the  great  struggle 
when  Thy  light  has  come ;  I  will  fight  the 
fight  of  faith  when  Thy  glory  is  risen  upon 
me. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  220 


XCII. 

WHAT  THE  ANGELS  STUDY. 

"WJiich  things  the  a7igels  desire  to  look  into." — 
I  Pet.  i.  12. 

What  were  those  tbini^s  which  were  the  sub- 
jects  of  study  to  the  angels  ?  One  would 
think  the  meditations  of  the  upper  world 
must  be  of  a  very  transcendental  nature,  far 
beyond  our  power  of  comprehension.  In 
truth  these  studies  were  not  transcendental 
at  all;  they  were  just  the  studies  which 
should  be  our  own  every  day.  We  are  told 
in  the  preceding  verse  that  there  were  two 
things  which  the  ano^els  desired  to  look  into — 
"  the  sufferings  of  Christ "  and  the  "  glory 
that  should  follow."  What  they  wanted  to 
study  beyond  all  other  things  was  the  road 
by  which  ministration  led  to  joy.  Do  you 
wonder  that  this  should  have  been  a  subject 
of  study  to  the  angels  ?  Does  it  seem  to  you 
a  theme  too  mean  for  angels  ?  Have  you  for- 
gotten what  the  angels  are  ?     Are  they  not  all 


230  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  unto 
them  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation  ?  Why 
should  not  the  ministering  spirits  study 
ministration,  and  study  it  in  the  person  of 
Him  who  became  the  servant  of  all  ?  Do  we 
not  all  study  those  things  which  are  most 
congruous  to  our  nature  1  The  poet  is  a 
student  of  poetry,  the  artist  is  a  disciple  of 
art.  The  ans^el  was  created  to  be  a  minister ; 
wherefore  should  not  he  study  his  art  ?  Why 
should  not  he  go  to  the  model  Teacher  in  the 
art  of  ministering  ?  Why  should  not  he  gaze 
even  from  the  heisfhts  of  heaven  on  the  strait 

O 

gate  and  the  narrow  way  which  led  the  Son 
of  Man  to  the  brow  of  Olivet  ?  This  would 
be  sorrow,  you  say,  and  there  can  be  no 
sorrow  in  heaven.  Yes ;  but  the  thing 
which  was  sorrow  on  earth  shall  in  heaven 
be  turned  into  a  joy.  The  selfish  heart 
finds  no  joy  in  the  study  of  ministration 
because  it  is  selfish;  let  it  become  wiselfish,  , 
let  it  be  transmuted  into  the  light  of  love,  • 
let  it  be  lifted  up  to  the  heights  of  heaven, 
and  that  study  will  become  its  glory. 

My  soul,  art  thou  prepared  for  the  heavenly  J 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  231 

meditation,  the  theme  on  which  angels  dwell  ? 
If  heaven    came    to   thee  to-night,   would  it 
be  to  thee  a  joy  ?     Is  there  within  thee  now 
such  a  love  for  humanity  as  to  make  the  care 
of  humanity  a  joyous  subject  of  eternal  study  ? 
Is  it  with   weariness  and  langour  that   thou 
frivest  the  thoudit  of  an  hour  to  the  problem 
of  human  helpfulness  ?     How,  then,  shalt  thou 
spend   an    eternity   in    which    that    problem 
is   the    prevailing   theme  1     Would  not  such 
a  heaven    be   to    thee    a   land    of    inexpres- 
sible   pain"?      Prepare,    then,    to    meet    thy 
God,    0    my   soul.     Thy   God   is   love,    and 
He    breathes    the   atmosphere    of    love.      If 
His   atmosphere   would    be   thy  life  and  not 
thy   death,    thou    must   be    partaker  of   His 
Spirit.     Heaven  is  no  home  for  the  selfish  ; 
they  would  not  call  it  home.     Wouldst  thou 
find  in  heaven  a  home,  study  on  earth  the 
theme   of   the   angels.     Study   the    wants    of 
thy   brother   man,    study    the    remedies    for 
human    care,   study   the   secret  of   successful 
ministration,  study,  above  all,  that  Divinely- 
human  sacrifice  which  teaches  to  all  the  ages 
the  glory  of  the  Cross. 


232  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


XCIII. 

THE  REASON  FOR  BURDEN-BEARING. 

"J^earje  otie  ano flier's  burdetis,  for  every  man  shall  bear 
his  oivn  burden.''^ — Gal.  vi.  2,  5. 

Is  not  this  a  strange  reason  given  for  burden- 
bearing  ?  We  could  have  understood  the 
sequence  better  if  it  had  been  said,  "  Bear  ye 
one  another's  burdens,  for  it  is  not  right  that 
any  man  sboukl  bear  his  own  ;  "  but  is  it  not 
strano-e  to  tell  us,  as  a  reason  for  bearinor  our 
brother's  load,  that  "  every  man  shall  bear  his 
own  burden"?  No,  it  is  not  strange;  it  is 
sublimely,  divinely  beautiful.  What  is  the 
burden  of  which  the  apostle  sjDcaks  ?  It  is  the 
burden  of  temptation,  the  burden  of  being 
"  overtaken  in  a  fault."  What  he  wants  to 
say  is  this  :  Bear  ye  one  another's  temptations, 
for  ye  have  all  temptations  of  your  own  for 
which  you  equally  will  need  charity.  Thou 
that  judgest  thy  brother,  hast  thou  considered 
thyself?     Hast  thou  considered  that  thou  also 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  233 

hast  a  burdon  of  temptation  for  which  thy 
brotlier  will  need  to  extend  charity  to  thee  f 
Thine  may  not  be  the  same  burden  as  thy 
brother's  ;  thou  mayest  be  strong  in  the  place 
wherein  he  is  weak.  But  let  not  this  be  a 
boast  to  thee  ;  there  is  a  place  wherein  thou 
art  weak  and  in  which  he  is  stronij.  When 
thou  ascendest  tlie  throne  of  judgment,  and 
when  the  books  of  thy  brother's  life  are  open 
to  thy  view,  remember  that  thou  too  hast 
books  to  be  opened.  Remember  that  thou 
too  hast  in  the  recesses  of  thy  heart  sins  that 
call  for  pardon,  thoughts  that  await  expiation, 
deeds  that  recjuire  atonement,  desires  that  cry 
out  to  be  purified  ;  remember  this,  and  thou 
shalt  bear  with  thy  brother,  and  in  thine  hour 
of  need  thy  brother  shall  bear  with  thee. 

My  soul,  wilt  thou  fulfil  this  royal  law  of 
Christ  ?  It  is  far  in  advance  of  the  law  of 
Moses  ;  the  law  of  Moses  said,  "  Thou  shalt 
not  hurt,"  but  this  says,  "  Thou  shalt  bear." 
It  is  not  enough  for  thee  not  to  injure  thy 
brother  ;  thou  must  help  him,  thou  must  suc- 
cour him,  thou  must  do  him  good.  Wouldst 
thou  be  able  to   bear  with  his  temptations? 


234  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

then  must  thou  be  conscious  of  thine  own. 
How  shalt  thou  be  conscious  of  thine  own  ? 
Come  to  the  Dayspring  from  on  high.  Stand 
before  the  gaze  of  the  searchiug  purity,  the 
spotless  holiness,  the  stainless  sinlessuess  of 
the  Son  of  Man.  There,  in  the  vision  of  His 
humanity,  thy  humanity  shall  sink  low  and 
lie  abased  in  the  dust.  There,  in  the  blaze  of 
His  unblemished  sunshine,  thy  flickering  light 
shall  be  extinguished,  and  thou  shalt  learn 
thy  darkness.  The  knowledge  of  thy  dark- 
ness shall  be  thy  first  true  light ;  it  shall 
waken  thy  sympathy  with  man.  When  thou 
hast  felt  the  pressure  of  thine  own  burdens, 
thou  shalt  lift  the  burden  of  thy  brother  ;  and 
in  lifting  the  burden  of  thy  brother  thine  own 
load  shall  fall. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  235 

XCIV, 

THE  CAUSE  CF  UNCHARITABLENESS. 

"  Buf  let  every  7nan  prove  /lis  oicm  work,  and  then  shail 
he  have  rejoic'utg  in  himself  alone,  a?ui  not  in 
another." — Gal.  vi.  4. 

Paul  says  that  the  reason  why  men  are 
so  uncharitable  is  that  they  do  not  know 
themselves,  do  not  prove  their  own  work ; 
they  think  of  tbemselves  *'  more  highly  than 
they  ought  to  think."  When  we  ask  the 
apostle  how  it  is  that  a  frail,  sinful  man  can 
believe  himself  to  be  pure,  he  answers,  It  is 
because  he  compares  his  own  badness  with  the 
worse  badness  of  others.  That  is  what  Paul 
means  by  rejoicing  in  another.  I  have  only^ 
a  small  candle  of  virtue,  quite  unfit  to  guard 
my  footsteps,  but  then  my  brother  has  only  a 
taper.  I  go  with  my  candle  to  his  taper, 
and  I  weifrh  that  which  is  little  in  me  ao-ainst 
that  which  is  less  in  him.  The  comparison 
enchants  me ;  I  come  home  rejoicino-.  I 
feel   myself  a   better    man   than  I    ever   felt 


2^6  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

before  ;  I  magnify  the  light  of  my  candle. 
But  Paul  says,  This  is  only  rejoicing  in 
another.  You  are  only  comparing  your  bad- 
ness with  the  more  pronounced  badness  of 
your  neighbour.  Why  not  have  an  absolute 
standard  1  why  not  prove  your  own  work  on 
its  own  merits,  and  have  rejoicing  in  your- 
self alone  ?  You  have  brought  j^our  candle  to 
the  taper,  and  your  heart  is  glad ;  why  not 
bring  it  to  the  sunlight  ?  Why  not  carry  it 
out  into  the  blaze  of  day  and  weigh  it  against 
the  majestic  fulness  of  the  light  of  heaven  ? 
If  your  candle  could  stand  that  ordeal,  then 
indeed  you  might  have  rejoicing  in  yourself 
alone,  and  no  longer  in  the  mere  knowledge 
that  another  is  worse  than  you. 

My  soul,  thy  light  could  not  stand  that 
ordeal.  If  thou  shouldst  bring  thy  candle 
into  the  blaze  of  day,  it  would  have  no  glory 
by  reason  of  the  all-excelling  glory.  Wilt 
thou  shrink  from  the  ordeal  that  would  prove 
thy  nothingness  1  thou  art  not  wise  in  shrink- 
ing from  it.  What  thou  needest  to  make  thee 
human  is  just  the  proof  of  thy  nothingness, 
just  the  vision  of  thyself  in  thy  poverty  and 


MOMENTS  UN  THE  MOUNT.  237 

in  thy  meaniR'SS.  Go  fort'i  with  thy  candle 
into  the  lioht — the  true  Li^ht  that  lio'hteth 
every  man.  Go  forth  into  the  presence,  into 
the  contact,  of  Him  who  is  fairer  than  the 
children  of  men,  the  Chief  among  ten  thou- 
sand, the  altogether  lovely.  Go  forth  into 
the  vision  of  that  Sun  of  spotless  righteous- 
ness that  gathers  no  clouds  upon  His  beams. 
In  the  hour  when  thou  shalt  behold  Him  thy 
candle  shalt  go  out  for  evermore,  and  thou 
shalt  be  in  darkness  to  thyself.  0  glorious 
darkness  born  of  higher  light,  0  grand 
humility  sprung  from  a  loftier  ideal,  0  proud 
dissatisfaction  telling  of  an  enlarged  capacity, 
my  heart  will  not  shrink  from  thee.  I  shall 
cease  to  rejoice  in  myself  when  I  have  come 
to  rejoice  in  the  perfect  day. 


238       MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

XCY.. 

rilE  MEMORY  OF  THE  HEART. 

"  U/s  mother  kept  all  these  sayings  in  her  heart."—' 
Luke  ii.  51. 

They  tell  us  that  memory  is  one  of  the  in- 
tellectual  powers.  I  think  that  the  strongest 
memory  is  a  power  of  the  heart.  There  are 
memories  of  the  intellect  which  are  short- 
lived and  ev'anescent  ;  they  are  like  the 
morning  cloud  that  vanishes  away.  But 
the  things  tbat  are  kept  in  the  heart  are  not 
evanescent;  they  last  for  ever.  There  are 
those  wdio  coniplain  of  having  short  memories, 
but  how  often  does  it  spiing  from  want  of 
sufficient  interest  ?  If  we  could  transfer  our 
duties  from  the  intellect  to  the  heart,  we 
should  rarely  forget  them.  Love  photographs 
the  impressions  of  the  past  in  colours  that  do 
not  fade  ;  the  things  which  are  kept  in  the 
heart  are  kept  for  ever. 

My  soul,  cultivate  the  powers  of  thy  heart. 
The  lieart  lias  powers  as  well  as  the  under- 
standing.    Thou    hast   an  eye   of  the   heart 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  239 

which  sees  deejier  than  the  natural  eye,  which 
is  promised  even  the  vision  of  God.  Thou 
hast  an  ear  of  the  heart  which  hears  more 
keenly  than  the  natural  ear,  which  can  catch 
the  Father's  footsteps  as  He  passes  by.  Thou 
hast  a  judgment  of  the  heart  which  can  reason 
more  truly  than  the  natural  judgment,  which 
can  penetrate  the  truth  at  a  glance,  and  dis- 
cern the  end  from  the  besrinnino-.     Thou  hast 

o  o 

a  memory  of  the  heart  which  is  longer  than 
the  natural  memory,  which  can  preserve  the 
things  of  the  far  past  in  all  the  freslmess  of 
yesterday,  and  keep  in  morning's  glow  the 
remembrance  of  vanished  days.  Give  to  thy 
God  this  memory  of  the  heart.  Eemember 
there  is  a  connection  between  thy  memory  of 
■  God  and  thy  hope  in  God.  What  gives  the 
Psalmist  such  a  golden  view  of  the  future 
that  he  cries,  "  I  shall  not  want  "  ?  It  is  just 
his  golden  view  of  the  ]Dast.  He  remembers 
tliat  God  has  already  led  him  by  the  green 
pastures  and  beside  the  still  waters  ;  that  He 
has  already  restored  his  very  soul.  What, 
after  that,  can  be  too  much  to  expect  ?  W^hat 
makes  the   Apostle  say   that  in  the  days  to 


240  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

come  God  will  fieelv  £rive  him  all  tliiufjs  1  It 
is  just  liis  memory  tliat  in  the  days  gone  by 
God  had  giveu  him  more  than  all  things  put 
together,  had  not  withheld  from  him  His  only 
begotten  Son.  Thine  is  no  irrational  faith. 
Thy  hope  in  rising  suns  comes  from  the 
memory  of  suns  that  have  set ;  thy  prospect  is 
thy  child  of  the  retrospect ;  thy  future  is  born 
of  thy  hitherto.  Keep  in  thy  heart  all  the 
steps  of  the  old  way.  Remember  the  ram  in 
the  thicket  that  saved  thee  from  sacrifice, 
the  road  across  the  sea  that  saved  thee  from 
storm,  tlie  manna  in  the  wilderness  that  saved 
thee  from  famine,  the  tempering  of  Marah 
that  saved  thee  from  bitterness.  Remember 
the  mountains  that  were  brouoht  low,  the 
doors  that  were  opened,  the  crooked  ways  that 
became  straight,  and  the  rough  places  that 
were  made  plain.  Remember,  above  all,  that 
thy  yesterday  encloses  a  Divine  sacrifice  for 
thee,  and  thou  wilt  not  be  afraid  of  aught  that 
to-morrow  can  bring ;  the  prophecies  of  thy 
fear  shall  be  conquered  by  the  memories  of  thy 
heart. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  241 

XCVI. 

HOW  TO  SHINE. 

"  Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world.  A  city  that  is  set  on  an  hill 
cantiot  be  hid.  Neither  do  men  light  a  ca?idle,  and 
put  it  iiJidcr  a  bushel.  .  .  .  Let  your  light  so  shine 
before  men  that  they  may  see  your  good  tvorks,  and 
glorify  your  Father  tahich  is  in  heaven." — Matt.  v. 
14-16. 

Our  Lord  is  here  teaching  His  disciples  how  to 
shine.  He  tells  them  to  avoid  two  extremes 
— to  beware  on  the  one  hand  of  afiectation, 
and  on  the  other  hand  of  want  of  manifesta- 
tion. He  says,  in  speaking  of  the  first 
extreme,  that  they  need  not  be  anxious  to 
display  their  light,  "  A  city  that  is  set  on  an 
hill  cannot  be  /wcZ."  He  tells  them  that  there 
is  a  power  within  them  which  they  could  not 
possibly  conceal  even  if  they  were  willing, 
which  would  radiate  from  them  in  spite  of 
themselves,  and  reveal  to  the  world  the  pre- 
sence of  something  new.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  He  says  that  if  they  are  to  avoid 
the   extreme   of   a   false   display,   tbey  must 


242  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

equally  avoid  that  of  a  false  reticence.  They 
are  not  to  light  a  candle  and  put  it  under  a 
bushel ;  they  ought  to  place  themselves  in  a 
situation  advantageous  for  being  seen,  advan- 
tao-eous  for  influencing;  the  mind  of  the  world. 
How  are  these  precepts  of  the  ]\Taster  to  be 
reconciled "?  How  are  we  to  shine  at  once 
consciously  and  unconsciously — conscious  of 
our  power,  and  yet  unconscious  of  our  great- 
ness ?  Our  Lord  tells  us  how.  He  says,  "  If 
you  would  shine  effectively,  if  you  would 
shine  in  such  a  way  as  to  influence  the  minds 
of  men,  the  motive  of  your  shining  must  be  a 
glory  not  your  own."  So  shine  that  you  may 
glorify  another — "  That  men  may  see  your 
good  w^orks,  and  glorify  your  Father  which  is 
in  heaven."  Let  yours  be  the  powder  of  love, 
which  is  the  power  of  dying,  nay,  of  being 
already  dead  in  the  life  of  another.  Forget 
your  own  glory  in  the  glory  of  the  Father, 
lose  your  own  interest  in  the  interest  of  the 
Father,  merge  your  own  will  in  the  will  of  the 
Father.  Let  your  brightest  joy  be  to  gladden 
Him,  let  your  deepest  grief  be  to  pain  Him, 
let    your    utmost    effort    be    to    serve    Him. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  243 

Identify  your  pleasure  with  His  profit,  mea- 
sure your  loss  by  what  men  refuse  to  yield 
Him.  And  verily  in  that  hour  you  shall 
shine — shine  as  the  stars  in  the  kingdom  of 
your  Father.  Tlie  light  on  which  you  gaze 
shall  pass  through  you,  the  love  which  is 
death  shall  be  your  rising,  the  forgetfulness 
which  has  buried  self  shall  roll  away  the 
stone  from  the  door  of  the  sepulchre.  Your 
true  self  shall  live  when  your  selfishness  is 
dead,  your  personal  being  shall  be  powerful 
when  you  have  forgot  to  seek  for  a  personal 
joy.  You  shall  shine  as  the  planets  of  the 
night  fed  by  the  light  of  the  reposing  day, 
shine  as  the  flowers  of  the  field  lit  by  the 
torch  of  morning.  Men  sliall  wonder  at  your 
power ;  you  shall  wonder  most  of  all  at  your 
own  power,  for  yours  shall  be  the  power  that 
comes  from  humility,  the  power  of  souls  that 
are  crucified  by  love. 


244  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT, 


XCVII. 

THE  HEAVENLY  IN  THE  EARTHLY. 

"Buf  ice   have   this   treasure  in   earthen   vessels." — 
2  Cor.  iv.  7. 

What  treasure  ?  The  apostle  tells  us  in  the 
preceding  verse  ;  it  is  "  the  light  of  the  know- 
ledge of  the  glory  of  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus 
Christ" — it  is  the  treasure  of  Christian  revela- 
tion. Why  should  this  revelation  be  given  in 
earthen  vessels  ?  why,  indeed,  except  that 
thou  to  whom  it  is  given  art  of  the  earth. 
Would  it  be  well  for  thee  if  thou  couldst  only 
find  Christ  away  from  the  earth,  if  the  Divine 
life  could  ouly  be  revealed  to  thee  when  thou 
thyself  wert  withdrawn  from  earthly  con- 
cerns ?  Is  it  not  a  divinely  beautiful  thing 
that  Christ  should  meet  thee  in  the  world's 
common  things,  that  thou  shouldst  find  the 
heavenly  treasure  even  in  the  earthly  vessels  ? 
Sometimes  it  has  seemed  to  thee  as  if  to  find 
the  heavenly  treasure  thou  wouldst  need  to 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  245 

retire  from  the  world,  to  go  away  into  some 
sequestered  spot  where  tlie  old  pursuits  and 
duties  and  avocations  would  exist  no  more. 
Yet  in  flyin_f!j  from  the  earthen  vessels  thou 
wouldst  be  flying  from  thy  treasure.  It  is 
not  in  thy  freedom  from  earthly  weakness, 
earthly  contact,  earthly  struggle,  that  thou  art 
nearest  to  the  revelation  of  thy  Lord  ;  no,  my 
brother,  it  is  in  tlie  weakness,  in  the  struggle, 
m  the  contact  with  earthly  things.  Art  thou 
in  the  wilderness  of  temptation  ?  thou  bearest, 
indeed,  an  earthen  vessel,  but  it  holds  for  thee 
a  possible  treasure  of  richest,  purest  gold ; 
there,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  meet  the  Spirit 
of  Him  who  foiled  the  tempter  and  chose  the 
narrow  way.  Art  thou  in  the  midst  of  the 
great  thoroughfare  where  toils  the  busy  crowd, 
surrounded  by  its  sins  and  jostled  by  its 
sorrows  ?  the  vessel  is,  indeed,  of  earth,  but 
the  treasure  is  golden  ;  there,  if  thou  wilt,  thou 
canst  meet  the  Spirit  of  Him  who  beheld  the 
city  and  wept  over  it.  Art  thou  down  in  the 
valley  of  humiliation,  bearing  in  thy  heart  tlie 
burden  and  the  heat  brought  to  thee  by  tlie 
world's  day  ?  thine  may  there  be  the  costliest 


246  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

of  all  treasures ;  for  there,  if  thou  wilt,  thou 
canst  meet  the  Spirit  of  Him  who  yieWed  up 
in  Gethsemaue  His  heart  to  a  Father's  will. 
Wouldst  thou  have  a  revelation  of  the  cross  ? 
theu  must  thou  take  up  thine  own  cross — not 
an  imaginary  cross,  not  a  sentimental  cross, 
not  a  cross  in  the  air,  but  the  common  earthen 
cross  that  falls  to  the  lot  of  every  man.  Thou 
must  take  up  the  little  petty  cares  of  daily 
life,  the  trivial  annoyances  that  are  often 
worse  to  bear  because  they  are  trivial,  the 
commonplace  troubles  that  await  every  step 
of  life's  walk  and  every  pressure  of  life's  con- 
tact. Thou  must  take  up,  above  all,  thine  own 
personal  cross — that  whicli  men  call  tliy  weak 
point,  and  which  thou  wouldst  gladly  exchange 
for  the  cross  of  thy  brother  ;  thou  must  lift  it 
and  bear  it  manfully  in  the  strength  of  the 
Son  of  Man.  So  shaft  thou  know  Him ; 
thine  earthen  vessel  shall  reveal  to  thee  a 
treasure  of  revelation,  and  that  wliich  seemed 
to  be  the  source  of  thine  utmost  weakness 
shall  lead  thee  to  the  highest  goal — the  light 
of  the  knowledge  of  God. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  247 


XCVIII. 
DEA  TH. 

"  T/ie  body  ivitlwut  the  spirit  is  dead." — J  as.  ii.  26. 

What  is  death  ?  Can  any  man  define  it  ? 
Does  insjDiration  tell  us  what  it  is  ?  Yes  ;  in 
the  words  now  before  us  we  have  the  simplest, 
the  shortest,  the  most  explicit  definition  in  the 
world ;  death  is  the  body  without  the  spirit. 
It  is  a  wonderful  explanation,  marked  off  dis- 
tinctly from  all  other  explanations.  It  is  not 
said  that  to  die  is  to  have  the  life  of  the  body 
extinguished ;  no,  the  life  is  not  extinguished, 
it  is  away ;  tlieie  is  something  absent,  the 
body  is  ivithout  the  spirit.  It  is  not  said  that 
to  die  is  to  have  the  spirit  without  the  body, 
in  other  words,  that  the  spirit  without  the 
body  is  dead  ;  no,  the  spirit  cannot  die,  whether 
in  the  body  or  out  of  the  body.  Do  not  be- 
lieve in  the  sleep  of  the  soul ;  the  soul  never 
sleeps.     Even  in  the  watches  of  the  night  it  is 


248  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

the  body  and  not  the  soul  that  slumbers.  The 
sleep  of  death  is  like  the  sleep  of  life ;  it 
belongs  to  the  weary  frame,  not  to  the  living 
spirit. 

Thou  who  art  weeping  disconsolately  over 
thy  dead,  there  are  words  which  have  need  to 
be  uttered  to  thee,  "  He  is  not  here,  He  is 
risen."  Thou  sayest,  "He  is  dead,"  yet  it  is 
not  so ;  death  applies  not  to  the  sj)irit,  and 
the  spirit  is  the  man.  It  is  only  the  body 
that  can  die ;  it  is  the  body  without  the  spirit 
that  is  dead.  Bethink  thee,  wliat  mean  these 
words,  "Though  He  were  dead,  yet  shall  He 
live"  ?  They  mean  that  what  thou  callest  death 
is  not  the  contradiction  of  life.  "  I  know  that 
He  shall  rise  again  in  the  resurrection,"  says 
tlie  weeping  Martha  at  the  grave  of  Bethany  ; 
yea,  but,  says  the  Master,  thou  expectest  too 
little,  for  he  that  liveth  and  believeth  in  me 
shall  never  die  at  all.  Martha  thought  that 
the  life  of  the  body  was  extinguished  until 
that  day  when  it  should  be  revivified  ;  she  did 
not  know  that  death  was  itself  only  the  flight 
of  the  spirit.  But  thou  shouldst  know  that, 
thou  the  cliild  of  resurrection,  the  recipient 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  249 

of  the  dawn.  Wherefore  art  tliou  hoveriufr 
ever  near  the  spot  where  the  dust  reposes  ? 
Wliy  seekest  thou  the  living  among  the  dead  ? 
Wherefore  dost  thou  measure  thy  nearness  to 
the  departed  by  thy  nearness  to  the  cemetery  ? 
What  communion  has  the  cemetery  with  life, 
what  intercourse  has  the  spirit  with  death  1 
If  the  departed  should  meet  thee,  it  will  not 
be  in  the  grayeyard  ;  it  will  be  in  those 
moments  when  thou  art  furthest  from  the 
graveyard.  Not  from  out  the  tombstone  shall 
their  voices  come,  but  through  the  thoughts 
that  make  thee  forget  the  tombstone  ;  not 
from  the  symbols  that  are  memories  of  death, 
but  through  the  hopes  that  tell  of  immortality. 
In  those  moments  in  which  heaven  is  opened 
and  the  ladder  is  revealed  stretchincr  from  earth 
to  sky ;  in  those  hours  in  which  thine  own  spirit 
is  caught  up  to  meet  its  Lord  in  the  air;  in 
those  days  when  from  the  top  of  Nebo  faith 
has  beatific  glimpses  of  the  promised  land  ;  in 
those  seasons  of  summer  warmth  in  which  love 
lifts  up  her  voice  and  sings,  "  0  death,  where 
is  thy  sting  !  0  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  !  " 
thou  may  est  picture,   if  thou  wilt,  the  com- 


250  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

muiiioij  of  those  minibteriug  spirits  sent  forth 
to  minister  iiuto  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of 
salvation. 


XCIX. 

LIFE. 

"  Ife  that  follon'etk  me  shall  not  walk  in  darhness,  hit 
shall  have  the  light  of  life." — John  viii.  12. 

There  is  no  lig-ht  in  the  world  so  beautiful  as 
the  light  of  life,  nor  is  there  any  light  so 
revealinor.  The  lio-ht  of  nature  does  not  tell 
us  half  so  much  that  we  would  like  to  know. 
There  is  a  deeper  revelation  in  the  feeblest 
breath  of  life  than  in  all  the  tremors  of  all 
the  golden  stars.  The  helpless  cry  of  infancy 
says  more  to  the  human  soul  than  the  sun 
coming  out  of  his  chamber  to  run  his  race  of 
strength.  The  light  of  life  carries  in  its 
bosom  all  possible  revelations ;  it  reveals  my 
God  and  my  immortality.  All  arguments  for 
my  God  grow  pale  before  this  certainty ;  all 
arguments  for  my  immortality  faint  in  the 
splendour  of  immortality  begun.     Life  is  the 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  251 

Jacob's  ladder  that  reaches  from  earth  to 
heaven,  that  binds  heaven  to  earth.  The 
tiniest  spark  of  life  is  the  first  step  of  an 
ascent  whose  midway  is  the  augel,  whose 
summit  is  the  Throne  of  God.  The  more  life 
is  in  me,  the  nearer  I  am  to  the  Throne  ;  my 
revelation  grows  not  by  what  I  get  from 
without  but  by  what  I  gain  from  within.  If 
I  had  fulness  of  life  I  would  have  perfectness 
of  vision  ;  I  w^ould  know  what  God  is,  what 
man  is,  what  heaven  is.  Is  it  not  written, 
"This  is  life  eternal  to  know  Thee"?  And 
yet,  marvellous  to  tell,  this  unspeakable  glory 
may  be  mine — be  mine  now,  here,  in  the  midst 
of  the  present  world  :  "  He  that  foUoweth  me 
shall  not  walk  in  darkness,  but  shall  have  the 
light  of  life."  It  is  not  by  dying  it  shall 
come  to  me ;  it  is  by  following — following 
the  steps  of  the  Master  through  life's  strait 
gate  and  life's  narrow  way.  It  is  by  taking 
up  the  cross,  by  lifting  the  burden,  by  bear- 
ing the  sacrifice,  by  doing  the  will,  that  the 
doctrine  shall  be  known  to  me. 

My    soul,    hast    thou    measured    the    true 
value  of  thy  life  ?     It  lies  not  in  its  leading 


252  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

but  in  its  following.  It  is  not  what  tliou 
hast  that  reveals  to  tliee  thine  immortality ; 
it  is  the  sense  of  what  thou  hast  not.  The 
measure  of  thee  is  tliine  aspiration — thy 
thirst  for  Christ.  All  things  rise  to  their 
own  level.  If  thy  goal  were  the  dust,  thou 
wouldst  not  seek  to  transcend  the  dust ;  thou 
wouldst  be  satisfied.  As  long  as  thou  art  a 
child  of  the  dust  thou  art  satisfied,  and  it  is 
the  smallness  of  thy  life  that  makes  thee  so. 
But  as  thy  life  grows  large  it  seeks  more  thau 
it  can  get  belo\v — the  measure  of  the  stature 
of  the  perfect  man,  the  fulness  of  Him  that 
filleth  all  in  all.  Thy  glory  is  thy  power  to 
follow;  it  tells  thee  there  is  something  beyond 
thee  which  yet  is  thy  birthright.  Thy  cry  for 
God  is  the  voice  of  God  within  thee,  thy  thirst 
for  tlie  heavenly  air  is  the  breath  of  heaven 
in  thy  heart.  Thy  conscious  want  is  thine 
open  door,  thy  sense  of  sin  is  thy  height  of 
Pisgah,  and  thy  vision  of  the  world's  gather- 
ing shadow  is  made  by  the  liglit  of  life 
eternal. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  253 


c. 

JESUS  ONLY. 

"  And  7C'Jien  they  had  lifted  up   their  eyes    they  sarv  no 
7/ia//,  save  Jcsiis  ofily." — Matt.  xvii.  8. 

It  is  when  I  have  lifted  np  mine  eyes  that  I 
am  impressed  with  the  solitary  majesty  of  the 
Sun  of  Man  ;  it  is  in  the  elevation  of  my  own 
moral  view  that  I  see  Him  to  be  what  He  is 
— the  Kiug  of  kings.  When  my  moral  view 
was  not  lofty  I  thought  of  Him  as  of  other 
men  ;  I  would  have  built  for  Moses  and  Eli  as 
tabernacles  by  His  side.  But  when  the 
transfiguration  glory  touched  me  I  awoke  to 
His  glory — His  solitary,  unrivalled  glory. 
I  saw  Him  to  be  the  chief  among  ten  thou- 
sand, and  fairer  than  the  children  of  men. 
Moses  and  Eli  as  faded  from  the  mountain's 
brow,  and  He  stood  alone  in  peerless,  un- 
approachable splendour ;  I  saw  no  man  there 
save  Jesus  only.  I  never  knew  before  that  it 
was  so  great  a  thing  to  be  good,  for  I  had  not 


254  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

felt  before  the  stniixule  between  the  old  life 
and  the  new.  It  was  only  when,  like  the 
disciples  on  the  mount,  I  had  fallen  prostrate 
in  the  struggle  to  be  holy  that  I  learned  how 
really  heroic  it  was  to  keep  the  conscience 
pure.  It  was  from  the  depth  of  my  conscious 
abasement  that  I  lifted  up  mine  eyes  with 
loiiGfino-  to  the  hills  of  holiness.  The  Son  of 
Man  became  to  me  more  than  all  the  sons  of 
men — the  first,  the  last,  the  only  one,  the 
altogether  lovely.  Tlie  strength  of  Elias 
paled  before  Him.  I  felt  that  to  conquer 
by  fire  was  easier  than  to  conquer  by  love, 
that  to  shed  the  blood  of  enemies  required 
less  strength  than  to  shed  one's  own,  and  I 
lifted  up  mine  eyes  in  reverence  to  behold 
Jesus  only. 

0  Son  of  Man,  may  Thine  image  ever  be 
thus  peerless  in  my  heart.  May  Thy  presence 
fill  all  things,  so  as  to  leave  no  room  for  any 
other  presence.  May  Thy  glory  be  above 
the  heavens,  so  that  I  have  no  need  of  the 
sun.  May  Thy  tabernacle  stretch  for  me  over 
all  creation,  so  that  neither  Moses  nor  Elias 
may  build  a  tabernacle  beside  Thee.     In  all 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  255 

the  forms  of  nature,  in  all  the  events  of  life,  I 
would  see  Thee  and  Thee  only.  In  all  beauty 
I  would  behold  the  reflex  of  Thy  beauty,  in 
all  wisdom  I  would  see  the  inspiration  of  Thy 
wisdom,  in  all  love  I  would  trace  the  impress 
of  Thy  love.  I  would  meet  Thee  in  life's 
cloud  alike  as  in  its  sunshine  ;  I  would  feel 
that  in  Thy  presence  the  night  were  even  as 
the  day.  I  would  allow  no  tabernacle  to  be 
built  beside  Thee,  in  honour  of  chance  or  acci- 
dent ;  my  explanation  of  all  things  would  be 
"  The  Lord  reign eth."  I  would  feel  my  need 
of  Thy  presence  more  and  more.  I  know  that 
the  nearer  I  come  to  Thee  the  more  will  I 
experience  the  sensation  of  Tliy  disci|>le  that 
I  am  "following  afar  off."  But  I  will  not 
shrink  from  that  experience ;  it  comes  from 
the  light  that  comes  from  Thee.  I  would  be 
nearer  to  Thee  every  day,  every  hour,  every 
moment,  for  it  is  only  in  being  near  to  Thee 
that  I  shall  learn  how  far  off  1  am  following 
Thee,  how  infinitely  thou  transcendeist  me. 
When  I  have  beheld  the  summit  of  the  mount 
I  shall  find  none  there  but  Thee. 


2S6  MOMLXTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 


CI. 

THE  GOODWILL  OF  THE  BUSH. 

"  T/ie  gpodwill  of  Him  that  divelt  in  the  bush.* 
— Deut.  xxxiii.  i6. 

Is  not  this  a  strange  thing  to  phice  amongst  the 
catalogue  of  human  blessings  ?  We  can  under- 
stand why  Moses  should  have  desired  that  his 
people  might  be  blessed  by  God  with  "  the 
precious  things  of  heaven,"  with  "the  dew 
and  the  deep  that  coucheth  beneath,"  with 
"the  jDrecious  fruits  brought  forth  by  the 
sun  and  the  precious  things  juit  forth  by  the 
moon."  But  why  should  he  ask  for  them  such 
a  blessing  as  this  ? — the  goodwill  that  God 
manifested  when  He  dwelt  in  the  unquench- 
able fire.  Was  not  that  aspect  of  Israel's  God 
an  aspect  of  deepest  terror  ?  did  it  not  reveal 
Him  in  those  attributes  which  do  not  suo-oest 
goodwill  ?  Nay,  my  brother,  it  is  not  so.  It 
is  not  only  in  the  calm  that  the  goodwill  of 
thy   God   appears,   it  is  not  only  in  nature's 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  257 

smile  tliat  the  blessiug  of  thy  Father  is  seen. 
The  heart  of  thy  Father  beats  for  thee  beneatli 
every  cloud  as  well  as  in  every  sunbeam ;  the 
blessing  of  thy  Father  is  in  thy  night  as  well 
as  in  thy  clay.  To  thee,  as  to  every  man,  He 
comes  betimes  in  a  chariot  of  fire  ;  with  thee, 
as  with  every  man,  He  dwells  betimes  in  the 
burning  bush  of  a  wilderness ;  but  the  fire 
chariot  is  His  chariot,  the  burning  bush  is  His 
dwelling-place.  The  fire  of  thy  God  is  love  ; 
its  burning  is  the  burning  of  love.  The  pains 
of  thy  life  are  not  accidents ;  they  are  gifts 
from  thy  Father's  hand.  The  fire  of  the 
burning  bush  is  meant  to  set  fire  to  thy  heart. 
It  is  designed  to  kindle  thee  into  a  glow  of 
enthusiasm,  to  warm  thee  with  the  love  of 
humanity.  How  canst  thou  be  warmed  with 
the  love  of  humanity  if  thou  hast  not  in  thee 
that  fellowship  of  the  cross  which  unites  soul 
to  soul.  The  fire  that  comes  to  thee  from 
the  bush  is  that  which  consumes  the  bar- 
rier between  thy  heart  and  the  heart  of  thy 
brother.  It  destroys  the  middle  wall  of  parti- 
tion between  you,  and  makes  you  one.  Before 
the  fire  came  to  thee  thou  wert  in  the  wilder- 


258  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

ness  alone  ;  tliou  hadst  not  felt  the  touch  of 
nature  that  makes  the  world  kin.  But  the 
fire  opened  the  door  of  thy  sympathy,  and  thy 
spirit  passed  through — passed  into  the  heart, 
into  the  life  of  thy  brother  man  to  bear  his 
burden  and  to  carry  his  cross.  There  was  no 
more  solitude  in  thy  wilderness ;  to  thee,  as 
to  Moses,  the  command  came  to  enter  into 
union  with  the  afflictions  of  thy  brethren.  To 
thee,  as  to  Moses,  the  mandate  was  given  to 
go  down  into  the  valleys  and  join  thyself 
to  the  sorrows  of  the  sorrowins^.  It  was  to 
the  ear  of  thy  sympathy  that  mandate  was 
addressed ;  it  came  to  thee  through  the  fire. 
In  the  sense  of  thine  own  pain  thou  wert 
awakened  to  the  universal  pain  ;  in  the  bearing 
of  thine  own  burden  thou  wert  warmed  into 
pity  for  all  that  bear.  0  blessed  bush,  whose 
burning  in  the  wilderness  has  been  my  inspira- 
tion, I  thank  thee  for  my  new  life,  my  life  of 
love.  0  Thou  that  still  dwellest  amid  the  fires 
of  human  suffering,  and  still  knowest  by  sym- 
pathy the  sorrows  of  Thy  people,  I  bless  Thee 
for  Thy  goodwill  in  the  bush  to  me — that 
goodwill  which,  by  sending  me  the  mystery  of 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  259 

pain,  united  me  for  evermore  to  the  family 
of  tlie  sorrowful — to  the  heart  of  the  Man  of 
sorrows. 


CII. 

THE  CARES  OF  GOD. 
*^  }Je  ca}-cth  for  you.'" — 1  Pet.  v.  7. 

The  old  world  looked  upon  Paradise  as  a 
place  without  care.  It  measured  the  mnjesty 
of  the  gods  by  their  exemption  from  the  cares 
of  humanity.  They  dwelt  on  the  toj)  of  Olym- 
pus, aud  rejoiced  ;dl  the  day  in  a  sunshine 
whose  cloudlessness  was  its  carelessness — its 
absence  of  interest  in  the  problems  of  human 
want,  its  recklessness  of  the  fate  of  those  who 
pine  and  suffer  and  die.  But  Christ  opened 
the  door  of  a  new  Paradise  and  let  man  see 
in.  He  gave  to  the  human  eye  a  totally 
different  vision  of  the  nature  of  Divine 
majesty.  He  showed  that  the  majesty  of 
God  differed  from  the  majesty  of  earthly 
kings  not  in  having  less,  but  in  having  more 


26o  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

care.  All  earthly  kinghood  was  defective  by 
its  inability  to  lift  the  whole  burdens  of  a 
people ;  the  government  of  the  King  of  kings 
was  supremely  great  because  it  could  lift  the 
burdens  of  all.  That  which  distanced  God 
from  man  was  God's  greater  power  of  drawing 
near  to  the  souls  of  man.  Man  held  aloof 
from  his  brother  man,  and  he  had  made  his 
gods  in  his  own  image  ;  Christ  revealed  a  new 
image  of  God,  a  new  thought  of  the  Divine. 
Christ's  majesty  was  the  majesty  of  stooping ; 
His  cross  was  His  crown.  The  sceptre  which 
He  wielded  over  humanity  was  the  sceptre  of 
love ;  because  He  was  chief  of  all,  He  became 
the  minister  of  all,  because  He  was  the  ruler 
of  all  life,  He  gave  His  life  a  ransom  for 
many. 

My  soul,  hast  thou  emancipated  thyself 
from  that  old  epicurean  dream  ? — the  dream 
that  thy  greatness  lies  in  thine  independence. 
Is  tliere  nothing  left  in  thee  of  that  pagan 
ideal  of  a  heio  which  tells  men  it  is  manly  to 
be  self-sufficient?  Is  there  w^itliin  thee  still 
somewhat  of  the  recklessness  of  tliat  man  who 
said  :  "  Am  I  my  brother's  keeper  ? "  Thinkest 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  261 

thou  that  it  is  the  badge  of  mauliness  to 
say,  "  I  do  not  care  ?"  It  is  not  the  badge  of 
manliness  ;  it  is  tlie  mark  of  a  child.  Nothing 
can  be  manliness  which  is  not  godliness,  and 
godliness  is  the  presence  of  infinite  care. 
"Wouldst  thou  be  like  God  ?  it  is  well,  but 
thou  wilt  not  reach  thy  goal  in  the  manner  of 
the  first  Adam  in  the  garden.  Adam  wanted 
to  know  the  difierence  of  o-ood  and  evil  for  the 
pride  of  it ;  he  never  thought  of  the  care  of  it. 
He  did  not  know  that  it  is  just  this  knowledge 
which  constitutes  the  Divine  burden — the  long- 
ing for  man's  salvation,  Wouldst  thou  be  like 
God?  then  thou  must  cease  to  be  self-sufficient ; 
thou  must  awake  to  the  care  for  other  souls ; 
thou  must  learn  what  is  meant  when  it  is 
said,  "  God  is  love."  Love  is  joy — infinite 
joy,  but  it  is  not  epicurean  joy.  It  is  not  the 
joy  of  selfishness,  but  the  joy  of  self-forgetful- 
ness.  The  gladness  of  thy  God  is  the  gladness 
of  him  who  bears  the  harvest  home,  the  glad- 
ness that  carries  in  its  bosom  the  spoils  con- 
quered from  the  field  of  sin,  "  This  my  son 
was  dead  and  is  alive  again,  was  lost  and  is 
found."      Wouldst  thou  reach  the   heiuht  of 


262  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

the  human,  wouldst  thou  attain  tlie  image  of 
the  Divine  1  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy 
Lord. 


cm. 

THE  BLASTS  OF  ADVERSITY. 

*^ Awake,  O  north  wind;  and  come,  thou  south;  blow 
upon  my  garden,  that  the  spices  thereof  may  flow 
out." — Song  of  Sol.  iv.  16. 

The  spices  in  the  gaidcn  of  life  only  flow  out 
when  the  winds  blow.  There  are  rich  treasures 
hidden  in  many  souls  which  would  remain 
hidden  for  ever  if  the  blast  of  adversity  did 
not  disclose  them.  There  is  more  power  in 
every  one  of  us  than  we  ourselves  know. 
There  is  no  depth  we  have  explored  so  little 
as  the  depth  of  our  own  heart.  There  are  latent 
in  our  hearts  vast  susceptibilities,  boundless 
aspirations,  intense  powers  of  loving  and  of 
working ;  but  we  ourselves  are  ignorant  of 
their  presence  until  the  winds  blow.  We  wait 
for  the  breath  of  heaven  to  disci ig;ige  the  per- 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  263 

fume  tliat  lies  impiisonecl  in  our  flower  of 
life ;  we  need  the  north  wind  and  the  south  to 
blow  upon  our  garden  that  the  spices  thereof 
may  flow  out. 

My  soul,  art  thou  afraid  of  the  north  and 
the  south  winds  ?  Art  thou  bemoaning  the 
hard  Providence  that  has  sent  them  into  thy 
garden  ?  Dost  thou  fear  that  they  will  destroy 
the  precious  fruits  of  thy  life  ?  They  are  sent 
into  thy  garden  only  that  they  may  perfect 
these  fruits.  Does  it  seem  to  thee  that  the 
Spirit  of  thy  God  hath  departed  from  thee 
because  the  north  and  the  south  winds  have 
begun  to  blow  ?  Nay,  but  the  blo\^  ing  of  these 
winds  is  itself  the  breath  of  the  Spirit.  Hast 
thou  considered  the  life  of  Joseph  as  an  ideal 
type  of  the  Providence  that  develops  all  life  ? 
Joseph,  the  shepherd  boy,  had  a  beauty  of  his 
own,  but  it  was  not  yet  the  highest  beauty. 
His  soul  was  a  fair  garden,  a  potential  garden 
of  the  Lord,  but  it  was  not  yet  His  actual 
garden.  The  seed  was  there  of  the  future 
fruits  and  flowers,  but  neither  the  fruits  nor 
the  flowers  had  become  visible.  Joseph's 
beauty  had  not  begun  to  diffuse  itself.     His 


264       MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

was  a  life  of  dreams — beautiful,  sentimeutal 
dreams,  such  as  youth  loves  to  cherish,  but 
which  as  loDg  as  they  are  cherished  pre- 
vent youth  from  being  useful.  And  so 
the  north  wind  and  the  south  wind  had  to 
blow.  The  spices  of  that  fair  garden  had  to 
be  released,  and  the  winds  of  adversity  came 
to  release  them.  The  dreaming  boy  had  to  be 
awakened  from  his  dream,  had  to  be  taught 
that  life  is  no  dream.  He  had  to  be  roused 
into  the  sense  of  human  suffering,  into  a 
perception  of  the  yoke  of  humanity,  and  he 
learned  it  by  his  own  yoke — by  the  iron  that 
entered  into  his  soul.  His  last  state  was  more 
glorious  than  his  first  because  it  was  more  out- 
flowing ;  his  dreams  about  himself  passed  into 
his  acts  for  others,  and  the  sweet  spices  that 
had  been  concealed  regaled  the  surrounding  air. 
Even  so,  my  soul,  shall  it  be  with  thee  when 
the  north  and  the  south  winds  shall  blow. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  265 


CIV. 

THE  DISINTERESTEDNESS  OF  GOD'S  CHOICE. 

•'  /  /laz't'  clioscn  ihce  in  the  furnace  0/  affliction." — 
ISA.  xlviii.  10. 

It  is  not  in  tlie  furnace  of  affliction  that  man 
commonly  chooses  man.  Our  friendships  are 
most  frequently  the  fruit  of  summer  clays. 
We  cling  often  to  the  friend  who  is  down- 
trodden, but  our  first  love  came  to  him  wdien 
he  was  not  downtrodden  ;  we  did  not  choose 
him  in  affliction.  All  tlie  more  marvellous, 
therefore,  is  the  Divine  love.  It  is  not  merely 
said  that  having  loved  us  from  the  beginning 
God  loves  us  to  the  end,  whatever  may  befall 
us.  This  we  should  have  expected  from  an 
infinite  love,  it  would  not  surprise  us.  But 
here  is  a  love  which  does  not  merely  endure 
in  spite  of  the  destitution  of  its  object,  but 
which  actually  chooses  its  object  in  the 
moment  of  its  destitution.  Here  is  a  love 
which  comes  to  me  not  for  what  I  have  but 


266  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

for  what  I  Lave  not,  comes  to  me  when  I  am 
wretched  and  miserable,  aud  poor  and  blind 
and  helpless,  comes  to  me  when  I  have  nothing 
to  give  and  nothing  to  attract.  It  seeks  me 
in  my  poverty  that  it  may  dower  me  with  its 
wealth,  it  seeks  me  in  my  loneliness  that  it 
may  glad  me  with  its  fellowship,  it  seeks  me 
in  my  weariness  that  it  may  inspire  me  with 
its  strength,  it  seeks  me  in  my  deformity  that 
it  may  crown  me  with  its  beauty  ;  it  chooses 
me  in  my  furnace  of  affliction. 

0  Thou  Divine  Love  that  passest  the  power 
of  all  human  love  to  comprehend  Thee,  what 
shall  I  render  unto  Thee  for  Thine  unspeak- 
able gift— the  gift  of  Thyself?  How  shall  I 
sufficiently  bless  Thee  that  Thou  hast  bent  so 
low  as  to  take  cognisance  of  my  lowliness. 
How  shall  I  adequately  praise  Thee  that  Thou 
hast  descended  so  deep  as  to  come  into  con- 
tact with  the  depth  of  my  meanness.  The 
most  infinite  thinij:  about  Thee  to  me  is  the 
infiniteness  of  Thy  stooping ;  it  is  in  Thy 
boundless  power  to  bend  that  Thou  surpassest 
the  loves  of  men.  I  accej^t  Thy  glorious  offer 
of  union   with  my  nothingness.      I  come  to 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  267 

Thee  just  as  I  am,  as  Thou  hast  chosen  me  1 
seek  Thee  without  waiting  for  the  ornaments  of 
life,  knowino-  that  when  Thou  shalt  receive  me 
Thou  shalt  deck  me  witli  the  gems  of  heaven 
and  adorn  me  with  the  jewels  of  Thy  crown. 
Out  of  the  furnace  of  my  affliction  I  fly  to 
Thee. 


cv. 

ISAAC. 

"  And  Isaac  ivent  out  to  lueditate  hi  the  field  at  the 
eventide.'''' — Gen.  xxiv.  63. 

What  a  contrast  there  is  between  the  life  of 
Abraham  and  the  life  of  Isaac  !  The  one  is  all 
storm,  the  other  is  all  calm.  In  the  life  of 
Abraham  we  stand  on  the  shore  of  a  mighty 
sea,  whose  bosom  is  ever  ruffled,  whose  waves 
are  ever  rolling ;  in  the  life  of  Isaac  we  stand 
by  the  rippling  of  a  gentle  stream,  where  there 
are  no  storms  to  ruffle  and  no  waves  to  roll. 
Abraham  is  the  man  of  action,  and  he  is  in- 
creasingly the  man  of  action ;  his  work  grows 


26S  MOMENTS  ON   THE  MOUNT. 

more  pressing  as  lie  grows  old.  But  Isaac, 
even  from  manhood's  dawn,  is  the  man  of 
meditation.  His  is  one  of  those  introverted 
lives  of  w^hich  there  is  little  to  tell.  There  is 
little  to  tell,  not  because  the  life  is  uneventful, 
but  because  the  events  are  not  seen ;  they  lie 
not  on  the  surface  of  history,  they  are  trans- 
acted in  the  depths  of  the  heart.  Think  not 
that  Isaac's  calm  was  the  calm  of  inanity ;  it 
was  the  calm  of  conquered  storm.  Canst  thou 
forget  that  if  his  was  a  placid  manhood,  it 
was  because  his  had  been  a  tempestuous  youth. 
Some  men  get  their  cross  in  middle  life,  amid 
the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day ;  Isaac  got  his 
cross  in  the  morning.  The  fiery  trial  which 
one  day  comes  to  all  of  us,  came  to  him  on 
the  threshold  of  life's  door,  and  at  the  very 
moment  when  the  bow  of  promise  was  seen  in 
the  sky,  the  blackness  of  darkness  threatened 
to  extinguish  it  for  ever.  AVas  not  the  rest  of 
his  later  years  well  earned  ?  Was  it  not  fitting 
that  he  who  at  morning's  dawn  had  climbed 
the  sacrificial  heights  of  Moriah,  should  be 
permitted,  even  in  the  blaze  of  noonday,  to 
have  something  of  the  evening  calm  ? 


MOME\TS  OX  THE  MOUNT.  269 

jMv  soul,  God  has  a  time  for  thee  to  work 
and  a  time  for  thee  to  meditate.  Would  it 
not  be  well  for  thee  to  come  up  betimes  into 
the  secret  place  and  rest  awhile  ?  The  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day  are  hard  to  bear,  and  im- 
possible to  bear  without  the  strength  of  the 
Spirit.  Thinkest  thou  that  the  meditation  of 
Isaac  is  a  disqualifying  for  the  work  of  Abra- 
ham ?  nay,  it  is  a  preparation  for  that  work. 
Thou  art  called  to  go  down  into  the  valley,  to 
lift  the  burdens  of  the  laden,  and  to  help  the 
toil  of  the  labouring.  Would  it  not  be  well 
for  thee  to  go  up  first  into  the  mount  of 
meditation,  and  get  transfigured  there  ?  Would 
it  not  help  thy  coming  work  in  the  valley,  if 
thou  wert  first  to  ascend  into  the  elevation 
of  aspiring  prayer,  where  thou  wouldst  catch 
something  of  the  radiance  of  thy  Lord,  and 
receive  something  of  His  glistening  glory  ? 
Thy  radiance  on  the  mountain  would  not  im- 
pede thy  work  in  the  valley ;  it  w^ould  inspire 
it,  it  would  strengthen  it,  it  would  ennoble  it. 
Thou  wouldst  carry  down  with  thee  such  a 
glittering  of  the  transfiguration  light,  that  the 
men  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  would  take 


2-jo  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

knowledo-e  that  thou  haclst  been  with  Jesus. 
There  would  go  out  from  thee  a  marvellous 
virtue,  a  miraculous  power,  a  supernatural 
energy,  which  everywhere  would  arrest  and 
transform.  Thou  wouldst  be  animated  by  a 
new  enthusiasm,  impelled  by  a  new  force, 
driven  on  irresistibly  by  the  impulse  of  light 
within.  Arise,  then,  into  thy  mountain,  0  my 
soul.  Take  the  wings  of  the  morning,  and 
ascend  to  meet  thy  Lord  in  the  air.  Enter 
for  one  blessed  hour  into  the  secret  of  His 
pa^dlion,  and  He  will  send  thee  a  flash  of 
light  that  will  keep  thee  all  the  day.  Thy 
work  for  man  shall  be  glorious  when  thou  hast 
meditated  on  the  mount  of  God. 


cvi. 

CHRISTIAN  PROMOTION. 

^'' Fiieiid,  go  zip  higher^ — Luke  xiv.  lo. 

There  are  some  of  us  who  never  get  iieyond 
the   first  step  of  Jacob's   ladder.      In   taking 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  271 

that  step  we  make  the  transition  from  deatli 
into  life ;  but  we  are  content  with  mere  life — 
the  life  of  an  infant's  breath.  We  are  always 
talkinor  of  what  we  have  been  saved  from  in 

O 

the  2^cist,  we  are  always  exulting  in  our  libera- 
tion from  the  state  which  lies  behind  us.  It 
is  indeed  beautiful  to  be  grateful  for  the  breatb 
of  existence,  but  have  we  considered  what  the 
breath  of  existence  means  ?  It  means  the 
introduction  to  boundless  possibilities.  Art 
thou  exulting  that  thou  hast  placed  thy  foot 
on  the  first  step  of  the  ascending  ladder  ?  It 
is  well,  but  let  not  this  be  thy  resting-place. 
Eemember  it  is  after  all  only  the  first  step, 
and  it  is  the  introduction  to  all  the  others. 
Thou  standest  between  two  worlds ;  below 
thee  is  the  world  of  infinite  death,  above  thee 
is  the  world  of  infinite  life.  It  is  good  to  look 
back  upon  the  world  of  infinite  death,  to 
remember  the  depth  out  of  which  thou  weit 
taken.  But  it  is  not  good  to  be  limited  to 
that  view.  Thou  art  only  on  the  first  step, 
and  tliere  are  myriads  to  come.  Above  thee 
there  are  heights  of  infinite  progress  waitino- 
to    be   scaled,   and  from  the  summit   of  the 


272  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

sacred  ladder  a  Divine  voice  descends  into 
tliiiie  ear,  "Friend,  come  up  higher."  ^  Thou 
hast  been  dwelling  with  rapture  on  the  thought 
of  thy  pardon,  and  truly  it  is  a  thought  worthy 
of  thy  rapture.  But  there  are  greater  raptures 
still  before  thee  which  thou  must  not  neo:lect. 
AVilt  thou  be  satisfied  with  mere  pardon  ?  If 
so,  thine  aspiration  is  smaller  than  it  needs 
to  be.  Thou  art  a  child  of  God,  a  son  of  the 
Highest,  and  thou  hast  a  right  to  boundless 
expectations.  Thou  hast  the  promise  of  infini- 
tude ;  wilt  thou  be  satisfied  with  the  finite  ? 
It  is  not  enousfh  for  thee  that  God  should 
pardon  thee  ;  He  must  fill  thee  with  His  own 
life.  It  is  not  enoucrh  for  thee  that  thou 
shouldst  escape  the  fires  of  heU  ;  thou  must 
aspire  to  enter  into  the  blaze  of  the  burning 
purity.  It  is  not  enough  for  thee  that  there 
is  no  longer  any  condemnation ;  thou  must 
press  towards  the  mark  of  a  prize  that  is 
still  beyond  thee — the  union  and  communion 
with  God.  Thou  thinkest  too  meanly  of  thy 
destiny.  Thou  hast  been  freed  from  the  fear 
of  the  famine  in  the  far  country,  l)ut  thou  art 
still  content  to  be  only  a  hired  servant  in  thy 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  273 

Father's  house.  Thou  must  yet  arise  and  go 
to  thy  Father  and  ask  Him  for  something 
more.  There  are  gifts  unspeakable  which 
still  await  thee — the  ring,  and  the  robe, 
and  the  universal  joy,  for  the  voice  of  thy 
Father  is  calliug  unto  thee,  "  Friend,  come 
up  higher." 


CYII. 

RELIGIOUS  ATTRACTIVENESS. 

"  Zef  the  beauty  of  the  Lord  our  God  be  upon  us." 
— Ps.  xc.  17. 

There  is  a  moral  power  in  beauty ;  it  elevates 
the  heart  of  the  man  that  sees  it.  It  is  not 
enough  that  a  man  should  display  the  laiv  of 
holiness ;  he  must  display  the  beauty  of  holi- 
ness. There  are  some  whose  reliofiou  has 
every  quality  but  one — attractiveness.  They 
are  animated  by  the  siucerest  motives,  they 
are  ruled  by  the  tenderest  conscience,  they  are 
influenced  by  the  purest  desires,  yet  their  reli- 


274  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

gion  is  witlial  a  weapon  in  the  hand,  not  a 
magnet  in  the  heart ;  it  drives,  but  it  does  not 
draw.  They  are  impressed  above  all  things 
with  the  power  of  the  Lord,  and  they  would 
like  to  display  His  power ;  they  do  not  see 
that  the  uppermost  garment  of  the  religious 
life  must  be  the  beauty  of  the  Lord.  They 
have  not  measured  the  force  of  these  words, 
"I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth,  will  draiv 
all  men  unto  me."  The  highest  power  of  the 
cross  is  its  attractiveness,  its  ability  to  allure, 
its  beauty.  Do  not  think  that  the  glory  of 
religion  lies  in  the  number  of  things  it  can 
re-pel;  it  lies  in  the  number  of  things  it  can 
attract.  The  beauty  of  the  Lord  is  an  univer- 
sally diffused  beauty  ;  there  is  no  sphere  which 
it  refuses  to  animate.  Hast  thou  not  seen  it 
in  the  world  of  nature  how  it  pervades  alike 
the  highest  and  the  lowliest  ?  Thou  beholdest 
it  on  the  mountain-tops,  and  thou  meetest  it 
in  the  valleys.  Thou  seest  it  in  the  bespangled 
heavens,  and  thou  tracest  it  in  the  colours  of 
the  earth.  Thou  findest  it  lighting  up  the 
wilderness  and  the  solitary  place,  and  thou 
discoverest  it  gilding  the  streets  where  pours 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  275 

the  busy  crowd,  illumitiating  dusky  lane  and 
shady  alley,  kindling  into  a  glow  the  common 
haunts  of  toilworn  men.  Truly  it  is  beauti- 
fully said  of  the  light  of  God's  outward 
beauty,  "There  is  nothing  hid  from  tlie 
heat  tliereof." 

0  Thou  wlio  art  tlie  source  of  beauty,  let 
Thy  beauty  overshadow  my  soul.  Let  Thy 
beauty  be  upon  me  as  an  outermost  robe ; 
above  all,  on  tlie  top  of  all,  may  I  put  on 
Thy  cliarity.  Help  me  to  wear  unsoiled 
everywhere  the  garment  of  Thy  righteous- 
ness. Where  Thou  goest  may  I  be  able  to  go, 
where  Thou  dwellest  may  I  be  fit  to  dwell. 
May  I  go  with  Thee  to  the  marriage  feast 
without  contamination ;  may  I  enter  with 
Thee  into  the  house  of  mourning  without 
despair.  May  I  stand  with  Thee  in  the 
streets  of  the  great  city  where  men  strive 
and  toil ;  may  I  commune  with  Thee  in  the 
solitary  fields,  \\here  the  lilies  toil  not  nor 
s[)in.  Jn  the  power  of  Thy  Divine  beauty 
may  I  be  able  to  lift  up  things  which  are 
not  beautiful ;  give  me  Thy  strength  to  touch 
what    the    world    could    not    touch    without 


276  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

stain.  Help  me  to  come  into  un harmed  con- 
tact with  that  whicli  would  dim  the  impure 
heart.  Help  me  to  take  by  the  hand  the 
lepers,  the  demoniacs,  the  outcasts  of  the 
world.  Help  me  to  give  Thy  beauty  to 
those  that  sit  in  ashes.  Thy  joy  to  those  that 
are  in  mourning.  Thy  garment  of  praise  to 
those  that  have  the  spirit  of  heaviness.  Then 
shall  even  the  Gentiles  come  to  Thy  light, 
and  the  powers  of  the  world  to  the  bright- 
ness of  Thy  rising.  They  shall  see  the  King 
no  longer  in  His  kingliness  alone  but  in  His 
beauty.  They  were  repelled  by  the  fires  of 
Sinai,  but  they  shall  be  attracted  by  the 
lovelit  peaks  of  Olivet ;  they  have  fled  from 
that  gate  of  the  house  of  God  which  is 
guarded  by  the  flaming  sword,  but  they  shall 
return  to  enter  it  again  by  the  gate  of  the 
temple  called  Beautiful. 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  277 


CVIII. 

SPIRITUAL  FEARLESSNESS. 

''^ For  then  shalt  thou  have  thy  delight  in  the  Almighty^ 
and  shalt  lift  up  tliy  face  u?ito  God." — Job  xxii.  26. 

To  lift  up  tlie  face  unto  God  is  a  beautiful 
imaga ;  it  is  the  symbol  of  perfect  confidence. 
We  say  in  common  language,  when  we  \\  ish  to 
describe  a  man  of  bad  conscience,  that  he  can- 
not look  us  in  the  face.  Such  is  in  substance 
tli5  thought  here  revealed.  It  is  suggested 
that  the  bad  conscience  keeps  the  head  down- 
ward towards  the  earth,  prevents  the  man 
from  gazing  up  even  in  his  acts  of  prayer  into 
the  face  of  his  Father.  There  is  somethins^  sub- 
ILmely  beautiful  in  these  words  of  the  ]\1  aster 
where  He  says  of  little  children,  "  Their 
angels  do  always  behold  t[\Q,f(ice  of  my  Father 
which  is  in  heaven."  It  is  the  expression  of 
fearless  confidence.  In  Eastern  lands  it  was 
only  the  few  who  were  allou  ed  to  stand  in  the 


278  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

presence  of  the  king,  to  gaze  into  the  face  of 
royalty.  In  the  presence  of  the  King  of  kings 
it  is  the  lit  Lie  children  that  stand,  it  is  the 
spirit  of  childhood  that  lifts  up  its  face  to  God. 
There  is  no  crouching,  there  is  no  timidity, 
there  is  no  covering  of  the  eyes  in  an  attitude 
of  servile  fear ;  there  is  that  beautiful  boldness 
before  the  throne  of  the  Heavenly  grace  which 
the  childlike  heart  alone  can  feel ;  there  is  the 
lifting  up  of  the  eyes  to  God. 

]\Iy  soul,  hast  thou  reached  this  glorious 
attitude  of  the  childlike  heart  ?  hast  thou 
attained  to  that  perfect  love  which  casteth  out 
fear  ?  Has  thy  religion  become  to  thee  any- 
thing more  than  a  task,  an  ordeal,  a  daily  and 
nightly  penance  which  must  somehow  be  got 
through,  and  which  thou  beginnest  for  the 
sake  of  getting  through  ?  Hast  thou  never 
risen  from  thine  ashes  in  thy  moments  of 
prayer  ?  have  thy  prayers  never  taken  any  form 
but  that  of  abject  servihty  ?  Hast  thou  never 
yet  known  what  is  meant  by  the  joy  of  com- 
munion, the  rapture  of  fellowship  with  God  ? 
Thou  know  est  what  it  is  to  be  in  awe  of  the 


MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT.  279 

Almiglity,  but  to  have  tliy  delirjJit  in  tlie 
Almighty — hast  thou  realised  that?  Yet  it 
is  that  and  nothing  less  than  that  that  is  thy 
birthright ;  for  this  cause  wast  thou  born,  and 
to  this  end  earnest  thou  into  the  world,  that 
thou  mightst  have  communion  with  thy  God. 
From  thee  there  is  desired  no  servile  homage, 
only  that  homage  of  the  heart  whose  name  is 
love  and  whose  nature  is  perfect  freedom.  It 
is  thy  heart  and  not  thy  life  which  thy  Father 
would  lead  captive.  He  would  enchain  thee 
by  the  most  golden  of  all  chains — devotion  to 
Himself;  He  would  sway  thee  by  the  softest  of 
all  sceptres — the  power  of  His  love.  AVhy  art 
thou  so  fearful,  0  thou  of  little  faith  ?  Is  it 
thy  poverty  that  makes  thee  tremble  ?  sayest 
thou  that  thou  hnst  nothing  of  thine  own  to 
give  1  Neither  have  the  waters  of  that  sea 
when  they  look  up  by  night  at  the  form  of 
the  over-hanging  moon ;  they  have  nothing 
of  their  own  to  give  her,  but  they  restore 
to  her  again  the  image  she  imprinted  on 
their  bosom.  So  shall  it  be  with  thee.  Thy 
Father   overhangs    thee,    broods    over    thee, 


28'o  MOMENTS  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

calls  to  thee  in  a  thousand  voices,  "Let 
there  be  light ; "  \vhen  thou  shalt  lift  up 
thy  face  to  Him,  He  shall  see  His  image  in 
thy  bosom. 


THE  CiD, 


STANDARD    RELIGIOUS   WORKS. 

TALKS  WITH  YOUNG  MEN. 

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pursue  the  rending  of  them  to  the  end.  The  graphic  descriptions  of  human  nature,  and 
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The  Parabolic  Teaching  of  Christ. 

A  Systematic  and  Critical  Study  of  the  Parables  of  our  Lord.     By  Rev. 
Prof.  A.  B.  Bruce,  D.D.     i  vol.,  8vo,  cloth,  527  pp.   Price,  $2.50. 

"A  work  which  will  at  once  t.ike  its  place  as  a  classic  on  the  Parables  of  our  Sa- 
viour.   No  minister  should  think  of  doing  without  it." — American  Presbyterian  Revieiu. 

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breadth  and  minute  accuracy  ;  it  has  a  living  sympathy  with  the  teaching  of  the  Para- 
bles and  with  the  spirit  of  the  Master." 

ENGLISH  NOTICES. 

"  Prof.  Bruce  brings  to  his  task  the  learning  and  the  liberal  and  finely  sympathetic 
spirit  which  are  the  be->t  gif:s  of  an  expositor  of  Scripture.  His  treatment  of  his  subject 
is  vigorous  and  original,  and  he  avoids  the  capital  mistake  of  overlaying  his  exegesis 
with  a  mass  of  other  men's  views." — Spectator. 

■'The  studies  of  the  Parables  are  thorough,  scholarly,  suggestive  and  practical. 
Fullness  of  discussion,  reverence  of  treatment,  and  sobriety  of  judgment,  mainly  char- 
acterize this  work." — Christian  IVorlei. 

"Each  Parable  is  most  thoughtfully  worked  out,  and  much  new  light  is  thus  thrown 
on  the  difficulties  which  surround  many  of  these  beautiful  and  suggestive  examples  of 
Divine  teaching." — Cergytnen's  Magazine . 

"This  volume  has  only  to  be  known  to  be  welcomed,  not  by  students  alone,  butby 
all  earnest  students  of  Christ's  oracles.  On  no  subject  has  Dr.  Bruce  spoken  more 
w'isely  than  on  the  question  why  Jesus  spoke  m  parables.  The  one  end  the  author  sets 
before  himself  is,  to  find  out  what  our  Lord  really  meant.  And  this  he  does  with  a 
clearness  and  fullness  worthy  of  all   praise.       Familiar  aS  We   are  With  SOme  Of 

the  best  and  most  popular  works  on  the  Parables,  we  do  not  know  any  to 
which  we  could  look  for  so  much  aid  in  our  search  after  the  very  meaning 
which  Christ  would  nave  us  find  in  His  v]mA&.''''—Noncon/ormisi. 


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STANDARD   RELIGIOUS    BOOKS. 


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these  sermon  outlines  have  been  drawn  are  leading  men  of  almost  eve)y 
denomination  in  Great  Britain  and  America,  the  subjects  treated  of  being 
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300  OUTLINES  OF  SERMONS  ON  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT. 


By  73  Eminent 
Archbishop  Tait. 
Bishop  Alexander. 
Bishop  Browne. 

Bishop  LiGHTFOOT. 

Bishop  Magee. 
Bishop  Ryle. 
Dean  Church. 
Dean  Vaughan. 
Canon  Farrar. 
Canon  Knox-Little. 


English  and  American  Clei. 
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Rev.  Dr.  R.  S.  Storrs. 
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Rev.  Dr.  T.  L.  CuYLER. 
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Rev.  Dr.  C.  T.  Deems. 
Rev.  C.  H.  Spurgeon. 
Rev.  Dean  Stanley. 
Rev.  Dr.  A.  Raleigh. 
And  many  others. 


OUTLINES  OF  SERMONS  ON  THE  OLD  TESTAMENT. 


G.  S.  Barrett,  B.A. 
Dean  E.  Bickersteth. 
Bishop  E.  H.  Browne. 
J.  Bald.  Brown,  B.A. 

T.P.  BOULTBEE,  LL.D. 

J.  P.  Chown. 
Dean  R.W.  Church. 
E.  R.  Couder,  D.D, 
T.  L.  Cuyler,  D.D. 
A.  B.  D.avidson,  D.D. 
Robert  Rainy,  D.D. 
Alex'r  Raleigh,  D.D. 
C.  P.  Rkichel,  D.D. 
Chas.  Stanford,  D.D. 
Dean  A.  P.  Stanley. 
W.  M.  Stratham,B.A. 


A  UTHORS  OF  SERMONS. 

J.  Oswald  Dykes,D.D. 
E.  Herber  Evans. 
Canon  F.W.  Farrar. 
Donald  Eraser,  D  D. 
J.G.Greenhough.BA. 
W.  F.  Hook,  D.D. 
Bishop  W.Basil  Jones. 
John  Kerr,  D.D. 
Canon  Edward  King. 
Bp.  J.  B.  Lightfoot. 
Wm.  M.  Taylor,  D.D. 
S.  A.  Tipple,  B.A. 
H.  J.  Vandyke,  D.D. 
Dean  C.  J.  Vaughan. 
James  Vaughan,  B.A. 


Canon  Liddon. 
J.  A.  Macfayden,  D.  D. 
Alex.  jNI  aclaren,  D.  D. 
Bishop  W.  C.  Magee. 
Theodore  Monod. 
Arthur  Mursell. 
Joseph  Parker,  D.D. 
Dean  E.  H.  Plumptre. 
John  Pulsford.  [D.D. 
W.  Morley  Punshon, 
M.  R.Vincent,  D.D. 
W.  J.  Woods,  B.A. 
C.  Wadsworih,  D.D. 
G.  H.  Wilkinson. 
Bp.  C.  Wordsworth. 


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CHOICE   POPULAR   BIOGRAPHIES. 

HEROES  OF  CHRISTIAN  HISTORY. 

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BY 

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PHILLIP  DODDRIDGE.  -  By  Rev.  Chas.  Stanford  D  D, 
WILLIAM  CAREY.  -        -  By  Rev.  Jas.  Culross,  D.D. 

THOMAS  CHALMERS.  -  By  Rev.  Donald  Fraser,  D.D. 
ROBERT  HALL.  -  -  .  -  By  Rev.  E.  Paxton  Hood, 
RICHARD  BAXTER.  .  -  -  By  Rev.  G.  D.  Boyle, 
FLETCHER  OF  MADELEY.        By  Frederic  W.  Macdonald. 


"  This  series  of  books  will  be  widely  popular.  It  consists  of  com 
pact,  popular  biographies  of  men  eminent  in  religious  history,  prepared 
by  English  and  American  authors  of  repute.  They  are  smiilar  in  size 
to  the  English  Men  of  Letters  Senes,  trustworthy  and  sufficiently  como 
prehensive,  while  yet  brief  enough  to  satisfy  the  demand  of  a  large 
number  of  readers  who  earnestly  desire  to  become  acquainted  with  the 
lives  and  work  of  eminent  Christian  heroes." — A''.  Y.  Evening  Post. 


Sent  on  receipt  of  price,  charges  prepaid. 

A.  C.  ARMSTRONG   &  SON,  714  Broadway,   New  York. 


Date  Due 

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